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A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S 
THANKSGIVING HOLIDAYS 


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The ^^Dear Little GirV^ Series 

A Dear Little Girl 

A Dear Little Girl at School 

A Dear Little GirPs Summer Holidays 

A Dear Little GirPs Thanksgiving Holidays 




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Jetty Did as He Was Told 




! 


A DEAR LITTLE 

GIRL’S THANKS- 
GIVING HOLIDAYS 






AMY E. BLANCHARD 






PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



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Copyright, 1912 
By George W. Jacobs & Co. 

Published August, 1912 


All rights reserved 
Printed in U. S. A, 


gCI.A3l67 71 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Invitation 9 

II Reliance 30 

III Whereas the Key? 50 

IV A Hearty Dinner 71 

V The Red Book 93 

VI The Old House 113 

VII The Mill Stream 134 

VIII Jetty Party 154 

IX The Elderflowers 174 

X What Ben Did 196 

XI Farewells 215 

XII How ARE You? 234 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


Jetty did as he was told . . . Frontispiece ]/ 

PACING 

PAGE 

‘‘I would like to see Ira milk’’ . . . .44 *^ 


They came with small branches of scarlet oak 72 ^ 

‘^Oh, girls, look here” 124^ 

“This is the very last time you will help me” . 226 ^ 



A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S 
THANKSGIVING HOLIDAYS 


CHAPTER I 

THE INVITATION 

^‘Any news, mother?” asked Edna one 
Friday afternoon when she came home 
from school. 

“There’s a letter from grandma,” re- 
plied Mrs. Conway after kissing the lips 
held up to hers. “There isn’t any real 
news in it, but there is an invitation.” 

“What kind of an invitation?” 

“A Thanksgiving kind.” 

“Oh, mother, what do you mean?” 

“I mean that grandma wants us all to 
spend an old-fashioned Thanksgiving with 
her; the kind she used to have when she 


10 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


was young. She says she and grandpa 
are both getting old and they may not he 
able to have the whole family there to- 
gether again.” 

“And are we going*?” 

“Yes, I think so.” 

“The whole family?” 

“I think perhaps you and I will go on 
a day or two ahead and let the others fol- 
low. Celia and the boys can come with 
your father, who probably could not get 
off till Wednesday afternoon. Grandma 
asks that I bring my baby with me.” 

“And that means me, ”* returned Edna, 
hugguig herself. “How long shall we 
stay, mother?” 

“That depends upon several things 
which will have to be learned later, so I 
can’t tell just yet.” 

Edna danced off to hunt up her brothers 
that she might tell them the news. She 
found them in their little workshop over 


THE INVITATION 


11 


the stable. Charlie was making a new 
box to put in his pigeon house and Frank 
was watching him. They had not seen 
their little sister since Monday for she and 
her sister Celia went to school in the city, 
remaining until the Friday afternoon of 
each week. 

“Hello!” cried Charlie, looking up. 
“When did you come?” 

“Oh, we’ve just come, only a few min- 
utes ago, and what do you think is the 
news?” 

“The Dutch have taken Holland,” re- 
turned Charlie, hammering away at his 
box. “Just hand me that box of nails, 
Frank, won’t you?” 

“That’s a silly answer,” said Edna with 
contempt. 

“Well, if it’s news, how did you expect 
me to know it?” 

“I didn’t expect you to know it, only to 
guess.” 


12 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Well, I guessed,” replied Charlie teas- 
ingly. “I suppose it’s a foolish sort of 
thing; Uncle Justus has grown another 
hair in his eyebrows or your friend Doro- 
thy has a new hat.” 

“It’s nothing so unimportant,” Edna 
continued; “for it concerns you boys, too, 
but if you don’t want to know I’ll go up 
to Dorothy’s; she’ll he interested even if 
she isn’t going.” 

“Going? Where?” cried both hoys. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to 
find out,” retorted Edna, beginning to 
scramble down the ladder. Both boys 
darted after ; Charlie swung himself down 
ahead of her to the floor below and was 
ready to grab her before she reached the 
last rung. Then there was much laugh- 
ing, scrambling, tickling and protesting 
till at last Edna was compelled to give up 
her secret, ending triumphantly with: 
“And I’m going first with mother.” 


THE INVITATION 


13 


“Who said so?” questioned Charlie. 

“Mother did. We are to go two or 
three days ahead of anyone else. ’ ’ 

“Oh, well, I don’t care,” returned 
Charlie. “There wouldn’t be any boys 
for me to play with anyhow.” 

“How many are coming for Thanksgiv- 
ing?” asked Frank. 

“I don’t know exactly,” Edna an- 
swered, “but I suppose all the aunts and 
cousins and uncles that can get there. 
Aunt Lucia and Uncle Bert and of course 
Aunt Alice and her boys, Ben and his 
brother. Ben will have to go, and I’m 
awfully glad; he’s my favorites! cousin.” 

“How about Louis?” 

“He is not any relation to grandma and 
grandpa Willis, is he?” 

“I don’t know; I never could get rela- 
tions straight. I hope he isn’t any kin to 
them and I am sorry he is to us, for he is 
a pill. You know he is, no matter what 


14 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


you say. Just look how he acted last 
summer. You needn’t try to excuse him, 
for Dorothy told me all about it.” 

Edna could not deny facts, for it was 
quite true that her cousin Louis was not 
above blame in sundry instances, so she 
changed the subject by saying, “I think 
I’ll go over to Dorothy’s anyhow.” 

The boys did not try to detain her and 
she ran out along the road and up to the 
old-fashioned house where her friend 
Dorothy Evans lived. Dorothy was play- 
ing with her kitten out on the side porch. 
She had dressed the little creature in long 
clothes and was walking up and down 
singing to it as it lay contentedly in her 
arms, it’s two gray paws sticking out from 
the sleeves of a little red sacque belong- 
ing to one of Dorothy’s dolls. 

“Doesn’t Tiddlywinks look funny?” 
said Dorothy by way of greeting. “And 
isn’t he good? I believe he likes to be 


THE INVITATION 


15 


dressed up, for he lies as still as anything. 
Of course, if he fussed and meowed, I 
would take off the things and let him go.” 

Edna touched the soft silvery paws 
gently. “I believe he does like it,” she 
returned. “See, he shuts his eyes exactly 
as if he felt nice and cozy. Oh, Dorothy, 
guess what ! We are all going to grandpa 
Willis’s next week. We are all going for 
Thanksgiving, only mother and I are go- 
ing first. Isn’t that lovely?” 

“Lovely for you, I suppose,” replied 
Dorothy dejectedly, “but I shall miss you 
dreadfully.” 

“Oh, no, you won’t, when you have Mar- 
garet and Nettie so near. Besides I shall 
not be gone long, not more than a week.” 

“Are there any girls there?” asked 
Dorothy, a little jealously. 

“Not like us. There is a little girl, 
mother says, that grandma has taken in to 
help her and Amanda; Amanda is the 


16 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


woman who lives there and cooks and 
churns and does all sorts of things.” 

“ Is it in the real country ’ ’ 

“It is real country and yet it isn’t, for it 
is a village. Grandpa has a farm, hut 
just across the street is a store and the 
church is only a few steps away, and there 
are lots of neighbors; some have big 
places and some have little ones. Grand- 
pa’s isn’t as big as the biggest nor as lit- 
tle as the littlest.” 

“Does he keep horses and cows and 
chickens and things'?” 

“Oh, my, yes, and ducks and turkeys 
and sheep.” 

“I should think it would he a pretty 
nice sort of place.” 

“It is lovely and I am always crazy 
about going there.” 

“But please don’t stay too long this 
time,” urged Dorothy. 

“I’ll have to stay till mother brings me 


THE INVITATION 


17 


back,” returned Edna cheerfully. “I 
wish there were another kitten, Dorothy, 
so I could have a live doll, too.” 

“You might take the mother cat,” Dor- 
othy suggested; “she is very gentle and 
nice.” 

They went in search of Tiddlywinks’ 
mother, but Madam Pittypat objected to 
being made a baby of, for, though she was 
gentle enough, she squirmed and twisted 
herself out of every garment they tried 
upon her, and, at the first opportunity, 
walked off in a most dignified manner, as 
though she would say: “Such a way to 
treat the mother of a family !” 

So the two little girls concluded that 
they would free Tiddlywinks and turn 
him again into a kitten. They left him 
stretching himself and yawning lazily, as 
they trudged off to see their friend, Mar- 
garet McDonald, that they might tell her 
Edna’s news. 


18 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


The days sped by quickly until Tuesday 
came, when Edna and her mother were to 
start on their journey. Edna at first de- 
cided to take her doll Ada “because she is 
more used to traveling,” she said, but at 
the last moment she changed her mind 
saying that Ada had been on so many 
journeys that she thought someone else 
should have a chance and, therefore, it was 
her new doll, Virginia, who was dressed 
for the trip. The previous year Edna 
had spent Thanksgiving Day with her 
Uncle Justus; this year it would be quite 
a different thing to sit at table with a 
whole company of cousins instead of din- 
ing alone with Uncle Justus. 

It was a journey of three hours before 
the station of Mayville was reached, then 
a drive of four miles to Overlea lay before 
them. But there was grandpa himself 
waiting to help them off the train, to see 
that their trunks were safely stowed into 


THE INVITATION 


19 


the big farm wagon, and at last to tuck 
them snugly into the carriage which was 
to bear them to the white house set in be- 
hind a stately row of maples. These had 
lost their leaves, but a crimson oak still 
showed its red against the sky, and the 
vines clambering up the porch waved out 
scarlet banners to welcome the guests. 

Grandma Willis was standing on the 
porch to greet them as they drew up be- 
fore the door. Behind her stood Amanda 
and behind Amanda a little girl about 
twelve or thirteen. Behind the little girl 
trailed a cat and three kittens. At the 
sight of these Edna gave a squeal of de- 
light. “"New kittens, grandma? How 
lovely! I’m so glad,” she cried. 

Grandma smiled. “Well, give me a 
good hug and kiss first and then Reliance 
can let jmu take one of the kittens to ling.” 

“Who is Reliance? Is that what you 
call the mother-cat?” 


20 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“No, her name is Tippy. Eeliance is 
the little girl who, we hope, is going to 
carry out the promise of her name.” 

Edna did not understand this latter 
speech hut she smiled encouragingly at 
Eeliance who smiled hack at her. Then 
after the huggings and kissings were 
given to Mrs. Willis, Eeliance picked up 
one of the kittens and held it out to Edna 
who cuddled it up to her and followed the 
others into the house. 

It was a hig old-fashioned place where 
the Willis family had lived for many gen- 
erations. In the large living-room was a 
huge fireplace in which now a roaring fire 
crackled and leaped high. There was a 
small seat close to it and on this Edna set- 
tled herself. 

“Here, here, aren’t you going to stay 
awhile?” cried grandpa who had given 
over the carriage into the hands of Ira, 
the hired man, and who had just come in. 


THE INVITATION 


21 


“Wliy, of course we are going to stay,” 
replied Edna. 

“Then why don’t you take off your 
things? Mother, isn’t there any place 
they can lay their bonnets and coats ? It 
seems to me there should be a bed or cup- 
board somewhere.” 

“iSTow, father,” protested Mrs. Willis, 
“you know this house is big enough to 
hold the hats and coats of the entire fam- 
ily.” 

“Didn’t know but you were house- 
cleaning and had every place turned up- 
side down.” 

“Now, father,” Mrs. Willis continued, 
“you know we’ve been days getting the 
house cleaned and that everything is in 
apple-pie order for Thanksgiving.” 

Grandpa gave Mrs. Conway a sly wink. 
“You’d think it ought to be in apple-pie 
order,” he said, “by the way they have 
l^een tearing up the place. Couldn’t find 


22 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


my papers, my sticks, my umbrella or any- 
thing when I wanted them. I am glad 
you all have come so you can help me hunt 
for them.” 

“Why, father, how you do go on,” Mrs. 
Willis interposed. The old gentleman 
laughed. He was a great tease, as Edna 
well loiew. 

“Where shall we go to lay off our 
things, mother?” asked Mrs. Conway. 

“Up to your ovm old room over the 
dining-room. Here, Eeliance, take the 
kitten and you, Edna, can come along 
with your mother.” 

“There’s no need for you to go up, 
mother,” said Mrs. Conway. “I have 
been there before, you know, and I think I 
can find the way.” Then the two smiled 
wisely at one another. 

But grandma would go and presently 
Edna found herself in a large room which 
looked out upon the west. Mrs. Conway 


THE INVITATION 


23 


stood still and gazed around her. ‘‘How 
natural it all seems,” she said, “even to 
the pictures upon the walls, I went from 
this room a bride, Edna, and when I come 
back to it I feel not a day older. This is 
the same furniture, but this is a new 
carj)et, mother, and new curtains, and the 
little cot you have put in for Edna, I sup- 
pose.” 

“Yes, there are some things that will 
not last a lifetime,” answered Mrs. Willis, 
“and we must furbish up once in a while. 
I thought you would rather have Edna 
here with you than elsewhere, and at such 
a crowded time we have to stow away as 
we can. I have put another cot in my 
room for one of the other children and 
Celia is to go in with Becky.” 

While they were talking Ira brought up 
the trunks and Mrs. Conway commenced 
the task of unpacking, so very soon they 
were settled and ready for dinner, which 


24 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


was served in the big dining-room where 
was another open fireplace not quite so 
large as the first, hut ample enough. Re- 
liance waited upon the table and helped to 
clear away the dishes afterward. 

“When you are through with your 
tasks, Reliance, you can take Edna out 
and show her the chickens and pigs and 
things,” said grandma. 

“Reliance is quite a recent addition to 
the family, isn’t she?” said Mrs. Conway 
when the little maid went out. 

“Yes,” Mrs. Willis replied. “Amanda 
isn’t as young as she was and we thought 
it would he a good thing to have someone 
here who could save her steps and who 
could be trained to take her place after a 
while. I think Reliance promises to he 
very capable in time.” 

While her mother talked to the grand- 
parents, Edna walked softly around the 
room looking at the different things, the 


TPIE INVITATION 


25 


pictures, books and ornaments. There 
was a high mantel upon which stood a pair 
of Dresden Abases and two quaint little 
figures. In the middle was a china house 
with a red door and vines OA^er the win- 
dows. Edna had always admired it and 
AA^as glad to see it still there. She stood 
looking at it for a long time. She liked 
to have her grandmother tell her its his- 
tory. “That was brought to me by my 
grandfather when he returned from Eng- 
land,” Mrs. Willis always said. “I was a 
little girl about six years old. Later he 
brought me those two China figures. He 
was a naval officer and that is his portrait 
you see hanging on the wall.” 

“I love the little house,” remarked 
Edna, knowing that the next word would 
be: “You may play with it if jmu are 
very careful. It is one of my oldest treas- 
ures and I should be very grieved if it 
were broken.” 


26 A DEAR LITTER GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


The little house was then handed down 
and Edna examined it carefully. “It 
is so very pretty,” she said, “that I 
should like to live in it. I would like 
to live in a house with a bright red 
door.” 

“I used to think that same thing when 
I was a little girl,” her grandmother told 
her. 

“I think maybe you’d better put it back 
so I won’t break it,” said Edna, carefully 
handing the treasure to her grandmother, 
“and then will you please tell me about the 
pictures'?” 

“The one over the mantel is called ‘The 
Signing of the Declaration of Independ- 
ence,’ and that small framed affair by 
the chimney is a key to it, for it tells the 
names of the different men who figure in 
the picture.” 

“I will look at it some day and see if I 
can find out which is which,” said Edna. 


THE INVITATION 


27 


“That is Napoleon Bonaparte over there; 
I know him,” 

“Yes; and that other is General Wash- 
ington, whom, of course, you know.” 

“Oh, yes, of course; and I know that lit- 
tle girl, the black head over there ; it is my 
great-great-grandmother. ’ ’ 

“The silhouette, you mean? Yes, that 
is she, and she is the same one who did 
that sampler you see hanging between the 
windows. She was not so old as you 
when she did it.” 

Edna crossed the room and knelt on a 
chair in front of the sampler. It was dim 
with age, but she could discern a border of 
pink flowers with green leaves and letters 
worked in blue silk. She followed the let- 
ters with the tip of her Anger, tracing 
them on the glass and at last spelling out 
the name of “Annabel Lisle, wrought in 
her seventh year.” 

“Poor little Annabel, how hard she 


28 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


must have worked,” sighed Edna. “I 
am glad I don’t have to do samplers.” 

“You might be worse employed,” said 
her grandmother, smiling. 

“Did you ever do a sampler?” asked 
Edna. 

“Not a sampler like this one, but I 
learned to work in cross stitch. Do you 
remember the little stool in the living- 
room by the fireplace?” 

“The one with roses on it that I was sit- 
ting on?” 

“ Yes ; that I did when I was about your 
age, and the sofa pillow with the two 
doves on it I did when I was about Celia’s 
age. I was very proud of it, I remem- 
ber.” 

“May I go look at them?” 

“Assuredly.” 

So Edna went into the next room and 
carefully examined the two pieces of work 
which now had a new importance in her 


THE INVITATION 


29 


eyes. A little girl about her age had done 
them long ago. She discovered, too, a 
queer-looking picture behind the door. 
It was of a lady leaning against an urn, a 
weeping-willow tree near by. The lady 
held a handkerchief in her hand and 
looked very sorrowful. Edna wondered 
why she seemed so sad. There were some 
Avords written below but they were too 
faint for her to decipher, and she deter- 
mined to ask her grandmother about this 
picture which she had never noticed be- 
fore. While she was still looking at it. 
Reliance came to the door to say, ‘‘I can 
go noAv; I’ve finished what I had to do.” 
Edna turned with alacrity and the tAvo 
went out together. 


CHAPTER II 


RELIANCE 

“How long have you lived here?” Edna 
asked her companion when they were out- 
side. 

“About six months,” was the reply. 

“Are you ’dopted?” came the next 
question. 

“No, I’m hound.” 

Edna looked puzzled. “I don’t know 
what that is. I know a girl that was a 
Friendless and she was ’dopted so now she 
has a mother and a beautiful home. Her 
name used to be Maggie Horn, but now it 
is Margaret McDonald. Is your name 
Reliance Willis?” 

“No, it is Reliance Fairman, and it 


RELIANCE 


31 


wasn’t ever anything else. I was friend- 
less, too, till Mrs. 'VVillis took me.” 

“Oh, and did you live in a house with a 
lot of other Friendlesses ” 

“No, I wasn’t in an orphan asylum, if 
that’s what you mean, but I reckon I 
would have had to go there or else to the 
almshouse.” 

“Oh!” This seemed even more dread- 
ful to Edna and she looked at her compan- 
ion with new interest, at the same time 
slipping her hand into the other’s to show 
her sympathy. “Tell me about it,” she 
said. 

“Why, you see, my parents died. We 
lived about three miles from here, and 
your grandmother used to know my 
grandmother; they went to the same 
school, so when us children were left with- 
out any home or any money your grand- 
mother said she w^ould take me and keep 
me till I was of age, so they bound me.” 


32 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Hoav many children were there 

“Three boys and me. Two of the boys 
are with Mr. Liikens and the other is in a 
home; he is a little chap, only six. If 
he’d been bigger maybe your grandfather 
would have had him here, and perhaps he 
will come when he is big enough to be of 
any use.” 

“I think that would be very nice and I 
shall ask grandfather to be sure to take 
him. Do you like it here?” 

“Oh, yes, I like it. Amanda is awful 
pernickity sometimes, but I just love your 
grandmother and it is a heap sight better 
than being hungry and cold.” 

“Would you have to stay supposing 
you didn’t like it?” Edna was deter- 
mined to get all the particulars. 

“I suppose so; I’d have to stay till I 
was eighteen; I’m bound to do that.” 

Edna reflected. “I suppose that is 
what it means by being bound; you are 


RELIANCE 


33 


just bound to stay. I wonder if anyone 
else was ever named Reliance,” she went 
on, being much interested to hear some- 
thing about so peculiar a name. 

“My grandmother was, her that your 
grandmother knew.” 

“Oh, was she? Then you are named 
after your grandmother just as my sister 
Celia is named Cecelia after hers. Yours 
is a funny name, isn’t it? I don’t mean 
funny exactly, for I think it is quite 
pretty, but I never knew of anyone named 
that.” 

“I don’t mind it when I get it all, but 
when my brothers called me Li I didn’t 
like it. Your grandmother gives me the 
whole name, and I am glad she does ; but 
she said they generally used to call my 
grandmother Lyley when she was a little 
girl.” 

“I think that is rather pretty, too, don’t 
you?” 


34 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Yes, but I like the whole name bet- 
ter.” 

“Then I will always call you by the 
whole name,” Edna assured her. “Can 
you tell stories, Eeliance?” 

“Do you mean fibs or reading stories 
like — ^let’s see — Cinderella and Jack and 
the Beanstalk?” 

“Oh, I mean the Cinderella kind; I’d 
hate to think you told fibs.” 

“I can tell ’em, but I guess I don’t care 
to. I know two or three of the other kind 
and Bible stories, some of them : Eli and 
Samuel, and David and Goliath, and all 
those.” 

“Do you go to school?” 

“Half the year, but I guess I won’t be 
going very much longer. I’ll soon be go- 
ing on fourteen; I’ll stop when I’m fif- 
teen.” 

“Oh, shall you? Then what will you 
do?” 


RELIANCE 


35 


“I’ll learn to liousekeep and cook, and 
to sew and all that. Mrs. Willis says it is 
more important for me to he educated in 
the useful things, that I’ll get along bet- 
ter if I am, and I guess she is right. My 
mother couldn’t cook worth a cent and she 
just hated it, so we didn’t get very good 
vittles.” 

“Was it your mother’s mother after 
whom you were named?” 

“No, my father’s mother. The Fair- 
mans lived around here, hut there ain’t 
many of them left now. My father was 
an only child, and he married my mother 
out of town ; she hadn ’t ever been used to 
the country. She used to work in a store 
and that’s why she couldn’t cook, you 
see.” 

Edna pondered over this information, 
wondering if everyone who worked in a 
store must necessarily turn out a poor 
cook. 


36 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“You ought just to see what’s getting 
ready for Thanksgiving,” said Reliance, 
changing the subject. “I never seen such 
a pile of stuff. It fair makes my mouth 
water to think of it; pies and cakes and 
doughnuts and jellies and I don’t know 
what all. I guess there’s as many as 
twenty or thirty coming, ain’t there?” 

“Let me see; I shall have to count. 
There will be Aunt Alice and her two 
boys, Ben and Willis, and Uncle Bert 
Willis with his five children and Aunt 
Lucia ; that makes ten, and then there will 
be all of us, papa and mamma and us four 
children; that makes — let me see — ” she 
counted hurriedly on her fingers. “How 
many did I say. Reliance? Ten? Oh, 
yes, and six make sixteen. Then there 
are tile greats; great Aunt Enuneline and 
her brother, Wilbur Merrifield, and his 
daughter. Cousin Becky. Sixteen did I 
say? and three make nineteen. Oh, yes. 


RELIANCE 


37 


Cousin Becky’s sweetheart that she is go- 
ing to marry soon; he is coming and he 
will make it just twenty. Counting 
grand]3a and grandma there will be 
twenty-two, and coimting you and Aman- 
da there will be twenty-four to eat the 
goodies.” 

“You didn’t count the two men, Ira and 
Jim,” said Reliance; “they will eat here, 
too.” 

“Oh, yes, I forgot them. What a 
crowd, twenty-six people. If they cut a 
pie in six pieces it would take over four to 
go around once, wouldn’t it?” 

“I suppose we would he allowed a sec- 
ond piece on Thanksgiving Day,” re- 
marked Reliance, “though maybe with 
the other things no one would want it. ’ ’ 

“How many kinds of pie will there 
be?” asked Edna. 

“Three at least. I heard Amanda say 
that she would make the fillings to-day for 


38 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


pumpkin, lemon and apple; she has the 
CTOst all done. She has made the jelly, 
too; it’s to be served with whipped cream. 
Your grandma was talking about having 
plum pudding, but Amanda said she 
didn’t see the sense of having it when it 
wasn’t Christmas, and there would be 
such lots of other things, all the nuts and 
apples and such things. There is going 
to be chicken pie, besides the turkeys and 
the oysters.” 

‘‘Dear me,” sighed Edna, “I am afraid 
I shall eat a great deal and be very un- 
comfortable. I was last year for a little 
w^hile because I ate two Thanksgiving din- 
ners. What did you do last year. Reli- 
ance'?” 

Reliance looked very sober. “We 
didn’t have much of a Thanksgiving last 
year, for it was just before my mother 
died and she was ill then, so us children 
just had to get along the best we could. 


EELIANCE 


39 


Somebody sent us in a pie and some jelly 
for mother and that is about all we had to 
be thankful for. I suppose it was much 
better than nothing. We ate all the pie 
at one meal. Billy said we might as well 
for it wouldn’t last two days anyhow un- 
less we had little bits of pieces, so each of 
us had a whole quarter. Billy tried to 
trap a rabbit or shoot a squirrel or some- 
thing, but he hadn’t enough shot and the 
rabbits didn’t trap.” 

Secretly Edna was. rather glad to hear 
this, even though it meant that the Fair- 
mans went without meat for dinner. She 
walked along pondering over these facts 
and wondering which were to be pre- 
ferred. She could not tell whether to be 
glad the squirrels and rabbits had escaped 
or to be sorry that the Fairmans could not 
have had game for Thanksgiving. It was 
rather a hard matter to settle, so finally 
she dismissed the subject and gave her at- 


40 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


tention to the pigs whose pen they now 
had reached. Edna did not think them 
very cleanly or attractive creatures, how- 
ever, and was very soon ready to leave 
them that she might see the chickens ‘and 
ducks which she found much more inter- 
esting. 

The short November day was already so 
near its end that the fowls were thinking 
of going to roost, though the hour was not 
late, and after watching them take their 
supper, which Edna helped Reliance to 
distribute, the two girls went on to the 
garden, now robbed of most of its vege- 
tables. There were a few tomatoes to be 
found on the vines ; though celery, turnips 
and cabbages made a brave showing. 
Edna felt that she was quite a discoverer 
when she came across some tiny yellow 
tomatoes which the frost had not yet 
touched, and which she gathered in tri- 
umph to carry back to her mother. 


RELIANCE 


41 


“I know where there’s a chestnut tree,” 
announced Reliance suddenly. 

“Oh, do let’s find it,” said Edna. “I 
will put the tomatoes in my handkerchief 
and carry them that way. We ought to 
gather all the chestnuts we can, for I 
know mighty well after the boys come 
there won’t be a nut left.” There was a 
rush down the hill to the big chestnut tree 
about whose roots lay the prickly burs 
which the frost had opened to show the 
shining brown nuts within. 

“I don’t see how we are going to carry 
them,” said Edna after a while, when she 
had gathered together quite a little heap, 
“I’ll show you,” Reliance told her, and 
began tying knots in the corners of the 
apron she wore. “There,” she said, 
“that makes a very good bag, and what 
we can’t carry that way we can leave and 
come back for to-morrow. We’d better 
take as many as we can, though, for to- 


42 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


morrow will be such a busy day I may not 
be able to come, and if we don’t, the squir- 
rels will get them all.” 

“I could come alone, now that I know 
the way,” said Edna, “or maybe niannna 
would come with me.” 

“I suppose we’d better be going back,” 
said Reliance when she lifted the impro- 
vised bag to her arm. “ It is near to milk- 
ing time and that means getting ready for 
supper.” 

“What do you do to get ready for sup- 
per?” asked Edna taking hold of one side 
of the bag. 

“Oh, I set the table and go down to the 
spring-house for the butter and cream. I 
can skim milk now, but I couldn’t at first, 
I got it all mixed up.” 

‘ ‘ Do you skim all the milk ? ” 

“Oh, no, that we put on the table to 
drink is never skinmied. The skimmed 
milk goes to the pigs.” 


RELIANCE 


43 


“Oh, does it? I think you feed your 
pigs pretty well. Are we going to watch 
them milk?” 

“You can if you like; I’ve got to go 
right back.” 

“You don’t help with the milking 
then?” 

“No; Ira does it. Your grandpa says 
it is man ’s work, but Ira lets me do a little 
sometimes so I will learn.” 

“Aren’t you afraid of the cows?” 

“No, indeed, are you?” 

“Kind of. They have such sharp 
horns sometimes,” answered Edna by 
way of excusing her fear. 

“Your grandpa’s don’t have; he keeps 
only dehorned cattle.” 

“What are they?” 

“The kind that have had their horns 
taken otf so they don’t do any damage.” 

“I think maybe I wouldn’t mind that 
kind so much, ’ ’ said Edna, after consider- 


44 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


ing the matter for a moment. “If you 
don’t mind, I think I would like to stop 
and see Ira milk.” 

Reliance said she didn’t min d in the 
least and, therefore, she left the little girl 
at tlie bars of the stable yard which was 
quite as near as she wished to stand to the 
herd of cows gathered within. 

“Want to come in and learn to milk'?” 
asked Ira, looking up with a smile at the 
little red-capped figure. 

“Oh, no, thank you,” returned Edna 
hastily. “I’d rather watch you.” She 
would really have like to try her hand if 
there had been but one cow, but when 
there were six, how could a young person 
be certain that one of the number would 
not turn and rend her ? To be sure, they 
were mmch less fearsome without horns, 
but still they were too big and dreadful to 
be entirely trusted. So she stood watch- 
ing the milk foam into the shining tin 









“ I Would Like to See Ira Milk ” 












EELIANCE 


45 


buckets and then she walked contentedly 
with Ira to where Amanda was waiting to 
strain the milk and put it away in the 
spring-house. 

“Do you keep it out here all winter and 
doesn’t it freeze?” asked Edna. 

“In winter we keep it in the pantry up 
at the house. If it should turn cold sud- 
denly now, we’d have to bring it in,” 
Amanda told her, as she carefidly lifted 
the earthen crocks into place. “There 
comes Reliance for the cream and butter,” 
she went on. “Reliance, I’ll carry up the 
milk and you come along with the rest. 
Don’t tarry down here, and be sure you 
lock the spring-house door and fetch in 
the key.” Then she went out leaving the 
two little girls behind. 

Reliance carefully attended to her 
duties, Edna watching her admiringly. 
It must be a fine thing to be so big a girl 
as this, one who could be trusted to do 


46 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


work like a grown-up woman. ‘‘Let me 
carry something,” she offered, when Re- 
liance stepped up the stone steps and out- 
side, carrying the butter in one hand and 
the pitcher of cream in the other. 

“If you would lock the door and 
wouldn’t mind taking the key along, I 
w'ouldn’t have to set down these things,” 
Reliance said. 

Edna did as she was asked, standing 
tip-toe in order to turn the big key in the 
heavy door. 

“When we get to the house you can 
hang the key on its nail behind the kitchen 
door,” Reliance told her. “It is always 
kept there.” 

Edna swung the big key on her finger 
by its string and trotted along by the side 
of Reliance, asking many questions, and 
delighting to hear Reliance enlarge upon 
the all-important subject of the Thanks- 
giving festivities. 


RELIANCE 


47 


“WeVe got to get up good and early,” 
Reliance remarked, “for there’s a heap to 
be done, even if we are ahead with the 
baking. I expect to be up before day- 
light, myself, and I reckon Ira will be 
milking by candlelight,” she added, as she 
entered the kitchen door. Mrs. Conway 
was in the kitchen talking to Amanda, and 
Edna hastened to show her little hoard of 
tomatoes. “We gathered a whole lot of 
chestnuts, too,” she told her mother. 
“They were all on the ground down the 
hiU behind the barn.” 

“I know the very tree,” Mrs. Conway 
told her. “We must roast some in the 
ashes this evening. Come along, supper 
is ready and you must get yourself fresh- 
ened up.” 

Edna followed along and, in the pros- 
pect of supper and then of roasting chest- 
nuts, she forgot all about the spring-house 
key. This, by the way, was lying on the 


48 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


door-mat where she had dropped it. A 
little later on, it was picked up by Reli- 
ance and was slipped into the pocket of 
her gingham apron. ‘ ‘ I won ’t remind her 
that she dropped it. Likely as not she 
forgot all about it,” said Reliance to her- 
self. “I ought not to have trusted it to as 
little a girl as she is. ” 

It was not till after she was in bed that 
Edna remembered that she had ever had 
the key. Where had she put it? She 
had no recollection of it after she had 
swung it by its string upon her finger on 
the way to the house. “It must be on the 
kitchen table,” she told herself. “I 
opened my handkerchief there to show 
mother the tomatoes.” She sat up in 
bed wondering if she would better get up 
and go down, but she finally decided to 
wait till her mother should have come to 
bed and then confide in her. 

However, try as she would, she could 


RELIANCE 


49 


not keep awake. It had been an exciting 
and fatiguing day and she was in the land 
of dreams in a few minutes, not even hav- 
ing visions of keys, spring-houses or 
Thanksgiving dinners, but of the mother 
cat and her three kittens who were climb- 
ing chestnut trees and throwing down 
chestnuts to her. 


CHAPTER III 
where’s the key? 

Very, very early in the morning Edna 
was awake. She was not used to farm- 
yard sounds and could not tell if it were a 
lusty rooster, an insistent guinea-fowl or a 
gobbling turkey whose voice first reached 
her. But whichever it was, she was quite 
broad awake while it was yet dark. She 
lay still for a few minutes, with an uncer- 
tain feeling of something not very pleas- 
ant overshadowing her, then she remem- 
bered the key. “Oh, dear,” she sighed, 
“if they can’t get into the spring-house 
there will be no cream for breakfast and 
no butter, either. The key must be 
found.” 

She got up and softly crept to the win- 
dow. A bright star hung low in the sky 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


51 


and there was the faintest hint of light 
along the eastern horizon. Presently 
Edna saw a lighted lantern bobbing 
around down by the stable and concluded 
that Ira must be up and that it was morn- 
ing, or at least what meant morning to 
farmers. She stood watching the light 
grow in the east and finally decided that 
she would dress and be all ready by the 
time it was light enough to hunt for the 
lost key. 

By now she could see well enough to 
find her clothes, but, fearing lest she 
should waken her mother, she determined 
to go to the bathroom at the end of the 
hall rather than use the wash-stand in the 
room where she was, so she gathered up 
her clothing in her arms, and went down 
the entry, made her toilet and crept down 
stairs. There was a light burning in the 
lower hallway, but it was dark all through 
the rest of the house and she was obliged 


52 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


to feel her way through the rooms. There 
was a noise of some one stirring in the 
pantry. She opened the door of the 
kitchen gently and peeped in. A lamp 
was burning on the table, but no key lay 
there. Edna tip-toed in quietly and felt 
on the nail where the key should hang, 
thrusting aside a gingham apron belong- 
ing to Reliance which hung just above 
its place, but the nail was empty and she 
was forced to believe she had dropped the 
key somewhere between the spring-house 
and the kitchen. She tip-toed out of the 
kitchen, turned the key of the outside 
door and closed it after her as noiselessly 
as possible, and in another moment was 
outside in the chill November air. It 
was rather fearsome to make one’s way 
down dim paths where some wild creature 
might still be lurking after a night’s 
raid from the woods near by, and she im- 
agined all sorts of things. First, some- 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


53 


tiling stole softly by her and was off like 
a shot through the tall weeds growing be- 
yond the fence; it was only a rabbit who 
was more frightened at Edna than she 
at it. Next, the bushes parted and a 
small white figure crept stealthily forth. 
The child’s heart stood still and she 
stopped short. Then came a plaintive 
meow and she discovered one of the three 
kittens out on an adventuring tour. She 
picked up the little creature which purred 
contentedly as she snuggled it to her, con- 
tinuing her way. 

The garden left behind, there was the 
lane to be passed through, and here some 
real cause for fear in Edna’s opinion, for 
the cows that Ira had just finished milk- 
ing were coming through the bars he had 
let down. They stumbled along clumsily, 
following one another over the rail, and 
ambled on to another set of bars where 
they stood till Ira should let them 


54 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


through. At first, Edna did not realize 
that they were not making for the spot 
where she stood and she took to her heels, 
fleeing frantically back to the garden, 
banging the gate behind her and standing 
still waiting till the cows were through 
and the bars up again. Seeing the cows 
safely shut out from the lane she ven- 
tured forth again and followed Ira’s lan- 
tern to the barn. Here she stood looking 
around and presently the beams from the 
lantern fell upon her little figure with the 
white kitten still clasped in her arms. 

Ira looked up in surprise. “Hello!” 
he cried. “What’s took you up so airly? 
Why, I jest got through milkin’, and, 
doggone it, it ain’t skeerce light yit.” 

“I know,” said Edna, “but I had to get 
up early, you see, so as to find the key 
before breakfast.” 

“Key? What key?” 

“The key of the spring-house. Reli- 


V/HEBE’S THE KEY? 


55 


ance gave it to me to cany and I was to 
have hung it up on a nail behind the 
kitchen door, and I forgot all about it till 
I was in bed. You see if it isn’t found 
nobody can have any milk or cream for 
breakfast.” 

“Oh, I guess we could manage,” re- 
turned Ira reassuringly. “Didn’t drop 
it indoors, did you?” 

“I don’t think so. I looked in the 
kitchen as I came out and I didn’t find it 
there. If it had been picked up, it would 
be on the nail, I should think.” 

“Most likely it would; it would be there 
sure if ’Mandy found it; she don’t let 
nothin’ stay out of place very long, I kin 
tell ye.” 

“As long as I didn’t find it in the 
kitchen I thought I would come here be- 
cause I saw you had a lantern, and it 
really isn’t quite light enough to see very 
plainly, is it?” 


56 A DEAR LITTDE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“No, it ain’t. Sun don’t rise till some- 
wlieres around seven this time o’ year. 
Well, you come with me and we’ll work 
our way long the path from the spring- 
house and if we don’t find the key we will 
go inside and inquire. I alwuz find it 
don’t do no harm to ask questions, and 
that there key is bound to be somewheres 
betwixt this and the house.” 

He swung his lantern so its rays would 
shed a broad light along the way, and 
Edna pattered along Just behind him, try- 
ing very hard to keep up with his long 
strides. When at last they reached the 
spring-house, he slackened his pace and 
began carefully to look to the right and to 
the left. 

“You come right straight along, did 
you?” he questioned. “Didn’t go ca- 
vortin’ off nowheres pickin’ weeds or 
chasin’ cats, did you?” 

“No, we came as straight as could be. 


WHEEE’S THE KEY? 


57 


Eeliance had the butter and cream and we 
didn’t stop once.” 

“Then I guess you likely dropped it in- 
side, for I’ve sarched careful and I can’t 
find it. Maybe when it comes real bright 
daylight you could look again, but I should 
advise askin’ at the house next thing you 
do.” 

He led the way into the kitchen where 
Amanda was briskly stirring about. 
“Well,” she began, “what’s wanting? 
Well, I declare if there ain’t Edna. 
What’s got you up so early, missy? I 
guess you’re like the rest of us, couldn’t 
sleep for thinking of all that’s to do for 
Thanksgiving.” 

“You ain’t picked up the spring-house 
key nowheres about, have you?” asked 
Ira. 

“Why, no. You had it?” 

“No, I ain’t, but sissy there says 
’Liance gave it to her to carry and she 


58 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


ain’t no notion of Avliat she done with it, 
thought niebhe she might ha’ (trapped it 
in here. She got so worried over it she 
riz from her bed and come out to hunt it 
up, says she was afraid nobody couldn’t 
get no breakfast because of her losing 
of it.” 

“I guess we won’t suffer for break- 
fast,” said Amanda, looking down kindly 
at the little girl. “I don’t carry back the 
milk nights this time of year. Any that’s 
left I just set in the pantry and there is 
what was left from supper this blessed 
minute ; butter, too, and cream, plenty for 
breakfast. You just rest your miad on 
that score.” 

“But,” said Edna, “you will want a 
whole lot of things for the Thanksgiving 
cooking and what will you do with them 
all locked up?” 

Ira laughed. “’T wouldn’t be such an 
awful job to lift the door from its hinges. 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


59 


and if a body was right spry he could 
climb in at the window after he’d prised 
it open and the things could be handed 
out. Besides we’ve got all the morning’s 
milk and there’ll be the night’s milk and 
to-morrow’s milk, so I don’t see that we 
shan’t get along first-rate. There is more 
than one way out of that trouble, ain’t 
there, ’Mandyf’ 

“I should say so. "Wait till the sun’s 
real high and I guess we’ll find the key 
fast enough,” she said to Edna, “Now, 
you stay right here and don’t go running 
about in the cold; you’ll be down sick 
traipsing about in the wet grass, and then 
where will your Thanksgiving be*?” 

Thus warned, Edna was content to stay 
in the kitchen into which the morning 
light was beginning to creep and which 
was already warm from the big stove. In 
a few minutes. Reliance appeared from 
the next room where she had been setting 


60 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


the table. She was much astonished to 
learn that Edna had been down before 
her. “What in the world did you get up 
so soon fori” she asked. 

“To find the key,” Edna answered, and 
then told her all about the search, end- 
ing up with, “You haven’t seen anything 
of it, have you. Reliance?” 

Reliance’s face broadened into a smile, 
as for answer she went behind the kitchen 
door and produced the key from its nail, 
holding it up to view. 

“Why, where in the world did you get 
it?” inquired Edna in a tone of surprise. 
“It wasn’t on the nail when I looked 
there for it a little while ago.” 

“You dropped it on the door-mat last 
evening,” Reliance told her. “I found it 
there and slipped it into the pocket of my 
apron, and this morning when I went to 
get my apron, there it was so I just hung 
it up where it belonged.” 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


61 


“Well, I’m sure,” said Amanda, “that’s 
easily explained.” 

“Wlio’d ha’ thought it,” said Ira. 
“Well, that let’s us out of another hunt. 
I won’t have to wrastle with the door after 
all, will ir’ 

So, after all, Edna’s early rising was 
unnecessary, but she did not feel sorry 
that she had had such an experience, and 
was content to sit and watch Amanda 
mould her biscuits and to help Reliance 
finish setting the table. Amanda insisted 
upon giving her a drink of buttermilk 
from the spring-house to which she de- 
spatched Reliance, advising Edna not to 
go this time. “You’ve had one tramp,” 
she said, “and moreover you’ll be starved 
by breakfast time if you don’t have some- 
thing to stay you.” 

The sausages were sizzling in the pan, 
and the griddle was ready for the buck- 
wheat cakes when Mrs. Conway appeared. 


62 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Well, you did steal a marcli on us,” she 
said to her little daughter. “How long 
have you been up ? I didn’t hear a sound. 
You must have been a veritable mouse to 
be so quiet.” 

“I’ve been up since before daylight,” 
Edna told her. “I took my things into 
the bathroom so as not to disturb you; it 
was lovely and warm in there.” Then 
again she repeated her story of the lost 
key. 

“Eeliance had the joke on her,” said 
Amanda, “for she had the key all the 
time.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you had 
found if?” asked Edna a little reproach- 
fully as she turned to Eeliance, who had 
by this time returned from the spring- 
house. 

“I thought you would forget all about 
it, and I didn’t think it was worth while 
to mention. Besides,” she added, “I 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


68 


ought to have carried the key myself any- 
way.” 

“You’re right there,” remarked 
Amanda. “It is your especial charge 
and you oughtn’t to have let anyone else 
fetch it in. Moreover, you’d ought to 
have hung it up the minute you found it, 
and there it would have been when it was 
looked for.” 

“Oh, don’t scold her,” begged Edna. 
“It was all my fault, really.” 

Amanda smiled. “I don’t see it just 
that way. Folks had ought to learn when 
they’re young that in this house there’s a 
place for everything, and everything 
should be in its place. I rather guess, 
though, that that special key won’t get 
lost again right away.” 

Edna felt that she had brought this lec- 
ture upon Reliance and felt rather badly 
to have done so, but the prospect of buck- 
wheat cakes soon drove her self-reproach 


64 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


away and she went in to say good morning 
to her grandparents, well satisfied with 
the world in general and content to look 
ahead rather than at what was now past 
and gone, and which could not be altered. 

Before the day had far advanced, came 
the first of the arrivals. Aunt Alice Barker 
and her two boys, Ben and Willis. Ben 
and Edna were great chums, though he 
was the older of the two hoys. Ben was 
alert, full of fun and ready to joke on 
every occasion, while Willis was rather 
shy and had not much to say to his little 
cousin, whom, by the way, he did not know 
so very well. 

Edna would fain have spent the morn- 
ing in the kitchen from which issued de- 
lectable odors, but Amanda had declared 
she wanted all the room there was, that 
she had scatted out the cats and dogs 
and she would have to scat out children, 
too, if they came bothering around. 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


65 


Therefore, to avoid this catastrophe, Edna 
took herself to a different part of the 
house, and was standing at one of the 
front windows when the carriage drove 
up. 

“Oh, grandpa,” she sang out, “here 
come Aunt Alice and her hoys ! Hurry ! 
Hurry ! or they will get here before we can 
be there to meet them.” 

Her grandfather threw down his news- 
paper and laid aside his spectacles. 
“Well, well,” he said, “it takes the young 
eyes to find out who is coming. I didn’t 
suppose Allie would be here till after- 
noon. What team have they. Why didn ’t 
they let us know so we could send for 
them?” 

He followed Edna, who was already at 
the front door tugging at the bolt, then 
in another moment the two were out on 
the porch while yet the carriage was some 
yards away. Ben caught sight of them. 


66 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Hello!” lie cried out. “Here we are, 
bag and baggage. Didn’t expect us so 
soon, did you grandpa?” 

“Ho, son, we didn’t. How did you 
come to steal a march on us in this way?” 

“The express was behind time so we 
caught it at the junction, instead of hav- 
ing to wait for the train we expected to 
take. It didn’t seem worth while to tele- 
phone; in fact we didn’t have time, so we 
just got this team from Mayville and here 
we are. How are you Pinky Blooms?” 
He darted at Edna, tousled her hair, 
picked her up and slung her over his 
shoulder as if she were a bag of meal, and 
dropped her on the top step of the porch, 
she laughing and protesting the while. 

“Oh, Ben,” she panted, “you are per- 
fectly dreadful.” 

“Why, is that you, Edna?” said Ben in 
pretended surprise. “I thought you were 
my valise ; it is too bad I made the mistake 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


67 


and dumped you down so unceremoni- 
ously.” 

Edna knew perfectly well how to take 
this so she picked herself up laughing, 
and started after Ben who leaped over the 
railing of the porch thus making his es- 
cape, By this time Mrs. Willis and Mrs. 
Conway had come out and the whole com- 
pany went indoors, Ben the last to come, 
peeping in through a crack of the door, 
and then slinking in with a pretense of 
being afraid of Edna. An hour later, 
these two were tramping over the place, 
hand in hand, making all sorts of discov- 
eries, leaving Willis deep in a hook and 
the older people chatting cozily before the 
open fire. 

Aunt Emmeline, Uncle Wilbur and 
Becky were the next to come, Becky be- 
ing in a pout because her sweetheart had 
failed to make the train, and Aunt Em- 
meline fussing and arguing with her. 


68 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“You know, Becky, that he is coming, 
and I don’t see what difference a couple 
of hours will make,” she said as she gave 
her hand to her sister, Mrs. Willis. “I 
am just telling Becky, Cecelia, that she is 
very foolish to make such a fuss because 
Howard is detained; he missed the train, 
you see, and can’t arrive till the next 
comes in.” She passed on into the house 
still talking, while Edna made her escape 
upstairs. She had not noticed the little 
girl, and Edna felt rather slighted. 

However, this was all forgotten a little 
later when her own brothers and sister 
as well as her father were to be welcomed. 
You would suppose Edna had been parted 
from them for at least a year, so joyous 
were her greetings, and so much did she 
have to tell. She had scarcely unbur- 
dened herself of all her happenings, be- 
fore in swarmed Uncle Bert and his 
family. There was so many of these that 


WHERE’S THE KEY? 


69 


for a little while they seemed to fill the 
entire house, for, first appeared Aunt 
Lucia and after her the nurse carrying 
the baby, then Uncle Bert with little Her- 
bert in his arms, and then Lulie and Allen 
and Ted. Cousin Becky’s sweetheart, 
Howard Colby, came on the last train and 
ended the list of guests. What a house- 
ful it was, to be sure, and what long, long 
tables in the dining-room. Reliance was 
not able to wait on everybody, and so 
Amanda’s niece Fanny, took a hand, thus 
everyone was served. 

Edna was rather shy of those cousins 
whom she had not seen for two or three 
years, and after supper preferred to stay 
close to her sister Celia and Ben, though 
her brothers were soon hob-nobbing with 
Allen and Ted, and were planning expedi- 
tions for the morrow. Ben told such a 
funny story about the lady by the willow 
tree, that Edna could never look at the 


70 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


picture again without laughing, but he 
had scarcely finished it before some one 
called out: “Bedtime for little folks!” 
and all the younger ones trooped off up- 
stairs, grandma herself leading the way 
to see that each one was tucked in com- 
fortably. 


CHAPTER IV 


A HEARTY DINNER 

It would be quite a task if one were to try 
to compute the number of buckwheat 
cakes consumed at the long tables the next 
morning, and there might have been more 
but that Charlie stopped Frank in the act 
of helping himself to a further supply by 
saying: “Look here, son, if you keep on 
eating cakes you won ’t give your Thanks- 
giving dinner any show at all. I’m think- 
ing about that turkey.” 

This remark was passed down the table 
and had the effect of bringing the break- 
fast to a conclusion. The boys scampered 
off out of doors to scour the place for nuts 
or to dive into unfrequented woodsy 
places, while the girls gathered around 
the crowing baby, in high good-humor. 


72 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


with herself and the world at large. 
Then the nurse bore baby off and Edna 
turned to her mother for advice. 

“What can I do, mother?” she asked. 

“Why, let me see. Your Aunt Alice 
and I are going to help your grandma to 
arrange the tables, after a while. We 
shall want a lot of decorations besides the 
roses your Uncle Bert brought. Suppose 
you little girls constitute yourselves an 
order of flower girls with Celia at your 
head, and go out to And whatever may do 
for the tables.” 

“There are some chrysanthemiuns, lit- 
tle yellow ones, and there are a few white 
ones, too ; I saw them yesterday down by 
the fence.” 

“They will do nicely; we will have those 
and anything else that will be pretty for 
the table or the rooms,” 

“Shall we ask Lulie to go with us?” 
whispered Edna. 



They Came with Small Branches of Scarlet Oak 




A HEAKTY DINNER 


73 


“Certainly I would. She isn’t quite so 
old as you, but she is the only other little 
girl here, and it would be very rude and 
unkind to leave her out.” 

“You ask her,” continued Edna in a 
low tone. 

For answer Mrs. Conway smiled over 
at Lulie. “Don’t you want to be a flower 
girl?” she asked; “Celia, I propose that 
you take these tv^o little girls in tow and 
go on an expedition to gather flowers to 
deck the tables and the house. I know 
you will enjoy it.” 

“Indeed I shall,” replied Celia. 
“Come on, girls, let’s see what we can 
find.” And the three sallied forth to dis- 
cover what might he of use. 

An hour later they came back laden 
with small branches of scarlet oak, with 
graceful weeds, with the little buttony 
chrysanthemums, and with actually a few 
late roses which had braved the frost and 


74 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


were showing pale faces in a sheltered cor- 
ner when the girls came upon them. By 
this time, the three cousins were well ac- 
quainted, the two younger the best friends 
possible, so that when dinner was really 
ready they were quite happy at being al- 
lowed to sit side by side. 

It would fill a whole chapter if I were 
to tell you about all the good things on 
that table. Grandpa carved a huge brown 
turkey at one end, while Uncle Bert 
carved an equally huge and brown one at 
the other end. Grandma served the 
flakiest of noble chicken-pies at her side 
of the table, while Aunt Alice served an 
oyster-pie of the same proportions and 
quite as delicious. The boys, not in the 
least disturbed by the memory of the 
buckwheat cakes, were ready with full- 
sized appetites, while the girls, after their 
scramble in search of decorations, had no 
reason to complain of not being hungry. 


A HEARTY DINNER 


75 


To Cousin Becky’s lot fell one of the wish- 
bones, and to Edna’s joy she had the 
other. Cousin Becky put hers up over 
the front door after dinner, and it was the 
strangest thing in the world that Mr. 
Howard Colby should be the first to come 
in afterward. Edna decided to save hers 
till it was entirely dry. 

“What are you going to do with it 
then?” asked Lulie. 

“I haven’t quite decided. I shall take 
it home, and maybe I’ll pull it with Dor- 
othy or maybe I will make a pen-wiper of 
it for a Christmas gift. I might give it 
to Ben.” 

“I never heard of wishbone pen- 
wipers,” said Lulie. “Are they very 
hard to make?” 

“Hot so very, if you have anyone to 
help you with the sealing-wax head. 
Celia could help me with that. You 
make a head, you know, and then the 


76 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


wishbone has two legs and you dress it up 
so it is a pen-wiper.” This was not a 
very clear description, hut Lulie was sat- 
isfied, especially as at that moment Ben 
came to them and said that everyone was 
going to play games, in order that their 
dinners might properly digest. 

“Everybody?” inquired Lulie. “The 
grandparents, too ? ’ ’ 

“Of course,” Ben told her. “We are 
going to begin with something easy, like 
forfeits, and work up to the real snappy 
ones after.” 

“What are the snappy ones?” asked 
Edna. 

“Oh, things like Hide-and-Seek and 
lively things that will keep us on the 
jump.” 

The two little girls followed Ben into 
the next room and before long everyone 
was trying to escape from grandpa Avho 
was as eager for a game of Blind Man’s 


A HEARTY DINNER 


77 


Buff as anybody, and who at last caught 
Becky, who in turn caught Howard Colby 
because he didn’t try to get out of her 
way. This ended that game, but every- 
body was so warmed up to the fun that 
when it was proposed to carry on a game 
of Hide and Seek out of doors all agreed, 
and Edna was so convulsed with laugh- 
ter to see her dignified, great-uncle 
Wilbur crouching behind a wood-pile and 
peeping fearfully over the top that she 
forgot to hide herself properly and was 
discovered by Ben in a moment. 

“You’re no good at all at hiding,” Ben 
told her. “Anybody could have found 
you with half an eye.” 

“Oh, I don’t care,” replied Edna; “I’ll 
have just as much fun finding out some 
one else, and she it was who made straight 
for Uncle Wilbur’s wood-pile to which he 
had returned with the fond belief of its 
serving as good a turn a second time. 


78 A DEAR LITTDE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


It was not so very long before the older 
persons declared that they had had 
enough of it. The men returned to the 
house to have a smoke and the ladies to 
chat around the fire. As for the children, 
it was quite too much to expect them to 
go in while there wajB a twinkle of day- 
light left, and, as Amanda expressed it, 
“They took the place.” The girls did not 
roam far from the house hut the boys 
wandered much further afield, bringing 
caps and pockets full of nuts, and clothes 
full of burs and stick-tights, even Ben 
brought back a hoard of persimmons 
touched by the frost and as sweet as 
honey. 

He poured these out on a flat stone near 
which Edna was standing. “Come here, 
Edna, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ let ’s divvy up. I ’ll give 
you half ; yoii can take what you don ’t eat 
to your mother and I’ll take what I don’t 
eat to my mother.” 


A HEARTY DINNER 


79 


Ediia squatted down by the stone and 
began delicately to nibble at the fruit 
wbicb. still bore its soft purple bloom. 
“I don’t believe I shall eat very many,” 
she said, “for my dinner is still lasting, 
and there will be supper before I am ready 
for it. We are not going to have a 
real, regular set-the-table supper, because 
grandma thinks Amanda and Reliance 
should have some holiday, too, but we are 
going to have sandwiches and cakes and 
nuts and apples and cider and a whole lot 
of things; something like a party you 
know. Aren’t you going to eat any of 
your persimmons, Beni” 

“No, that coming supper party sounds 
too seductive; I’ll wait so that I can do it 
justice.” 

“What did you see out in the woods?” 
asked Edna. 

“Eoxy grape-vines and bare trees,” he 
answered promptly. 


80 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Do you mean b-e-a-r trees or b-a-r-e 
trees?” 

“Which ever you like; I’ve no doubt 
there were both kinds.” 

“Oh, Ben,” Edna glanced around fear- 
fully, “do you really think there are bears 
around here?” 

“I know there are, sometimes.” He 
drew down his mouth in a way which 
made Edna suspect a joke. 

“When is the sometimes?” she asked 
suspiciously. 

“When they have a circus at May- 
ville.” 

“Oh, you Ben Barker, you are the 
worst,” cried Edna roguishly pulling his 
nose. 

“Here, here,” he exclaimed, “look out, 
it might come off like the fox’s tail.” 

“What fox?” 

“Don’t you know the story of ‘Rey- 
nard, the Fox’? It is in one of those big. 


A HEARTY DINNER 


81 


red books that lie on that claw-footed 
table in the living-room.” 

“Here, in this house?” 

“Yea, verily. You don’t mean to say 
you have never read those books! Why, 
there is not a year since I was eight years 
old that I haven’t pored over them. 
Every time I have been here, and that is 
at least once a year, I go for those books. 
I’d advise yon to make their acquaint- 
ance.” 

“You tell me the story; then I won’t 
have to read it.” 

“No, my child, I shall not allow you to 
neglect your opportunities through any 
weakness on my part. Read it for your- 
self, and thereafter, the red book will be 
one of your prized memories of ‘Over- 
lea.’ ” 

“Then tell me again about the lady and 
the willow tree,” begged Edna; “that was 
so funny.” 


82 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


Ben laughed. “I am afraid I don’t re- 
member that so well as I do the fox story, 
but maybe I will think of some more about 
her. Come, it is time to go in. They 
may be eating those chicken or turkey 
sandwiches this very minute.” 

Hanging on his arm, Edna skipped 
along to the house to find that it was quite 
too early to think of sandwiches, though 
the lamps were lighted in all but the liv- 
ing-room where a cheerful fire made the 
place light enough. Around the fire sat 
grandma, Aunt Emmeline, Aunt Alice 
and Mrs. Conway. Aunt Lucia was up- 
stairs with the babies. Uncle Wilbur was 
taking a nap, and grandpa and Uncle 
Bert were out looking after the stock, as 
Ira and the other man had been allowed 
a holiday. Over in the corner of the sofa 
sat Cousin Becky and her lover talking in 
low tones. 

“Dear me,” said grandma, as the chil- 


A HEARTY DINNER 


83 


dren all trooped in, “we must have a 
light ; these little folks may not like to sit 
in the dark.” 

“This is the best kind of light,” de- 
clared Ben, “and the very time for telling 
tales. Let’s all sit around the fire and 
have a good time. We’ll begin with the 
oldest and so on down to the youngest. 
If we don’t have time to go all the way 
down the line, we’ll stop when we’re him- 
gry. How’s that, grandma? Do you like 
the plan?” 

“It is just as the others say, my dear,” 
she answered. 

“It’s a lovely plan, Ben,” said Mrs. 
Conway. “You will have to begin, 
mother, and Aunt Emmeline can come 
next.” 

“Oh, dear,” protested that lady, “I 
never was one for telling tales; you will 
have to count me out.” 

“I am sure if I can, you can,” grandma 


84 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


assured lier. “What shall it be about, 
children?” 

“Oh, about when you were a little girl,” 
cried Edna. 

“About the time the horse ran away 
with you,” spoke up the boys. 

“About your first ball please,” begged 
Celia. 

Grandma laughed. “Just listen to 
them. They have heard all those things 
dozens of times. I’ll tell you what we will 
do. I will tell about the runaway horse, 
that belongs to the time when I was a lit- 
tle girl, and Emmeline shall tell about her 
first ball, and I can remind her if she for- 
gets anything. I remember her first ball 
even better than my first, for it was at 
hers I met your grandfather.” 

This was all so satisfactory that there 
was not a murmur of dissent, and 
grandma began: “It was when I was 
about ten years old that I went one day 


A HEAETY DINNER 


85 


mth my father to the nearest village. 
He was driving a pair of spirited horses, 
and on our way home a parcel we were 
bringing home, fell out of the buggy. 
My father stopped the horses and ran 
back to pick up the parcel, but before he 
could get to the buggy, the horses took 
fright at a piece of paper blowing along 
the road in front of them and off they 
started, full tilt, down the road. In vain 
my father cried, ‘Hey, there! Whoa, 
Barney ! Whoa Pet ! ’ on they went faster 
and faster. I managed to hold on to 
the reins but my young hands were not 
strong enough to control the wild crea- 
tures, and I thought every minute would 
be my last, for up hill and down dale we 
went at such a pace I had never known. 
Over a stump would jounce the buggy, 
and I would nearly pitch out. Around 
the last curve they went with a swing 
which I thought would land me on my 


86 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


back or niy head, but I managed to keej) 
my seat and at last saw the open gate of 
our own lane before me. Would the 
horses go through without hitting a gate 
post? Would they run into a fence or 
over a pile of stones at one side? My 
heart was in my mouth. I jerked the 
reins in a vain attempt to guide them, but 
on they went, pell-mell, making straight 
for the open gate. Presently I saw some 
one rush from the house and then another 
person come flying from the stables. 
Just before we reached the gate, it was 
flung to with a bang. The horses 
pranced, swung a little to one side and 
stopped short, and I heard some one say, 
‘So, Barney, so Pet!’ I didn’t know 
what happened next but the first thing I 
knew I was lying on the lounge in the 
sitting-room, my mother bending over me, 
and holding a bottle of salts to my nose, 
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear,’ my mother was cry- 


A HEARTY DINNER 


87 


ing, ‘another minute and the child might 
have been killed.’ ” 

“Who was it shut the gate?” asked Al- 
len eagerly. 

“Amanda’s mother, who was living 
with us at that time.” 

“And who caught the horses?” queried 
Ted. 

“Jim Doughty, who was our hired 
man.” 

“Weren’t you nearly frightened to 
death?” Lulie put the question. 

“Very nearly, and so was my father. 
He was as pale as a ghost when he got 
home. He had to walk all the way, and 
said he thought he should never get there. 
The country wasn’t as thickly settled as 
it is now, and there were no houses be- 
tween us and the spot where the horses 
took fright.” 

“Where is the place you lived?” asked 
Allen. 


88 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“About five miles from here.” 

“I should like to see it,” said the boy 
musingly. “I suppose those horses are 
dead. I’d like to see horses that could 
run like that.” 

“They would be somewhere in the 
neighborhood of sixty-five or seventy 
years old by this time,” said grandma 
with a smile, “and the oldest horse I ever 
knew was forty.” 

“Gee! but that was old,” remarked 
Frank. “Whose was it, grandma? 
Yours?” 

“No, my grandfather’s. Her name 
was Dolly, and she took my grandparents 
to church every Sunday for many years, 
up to a little while before she died. Now, 
Emmeline, let’s hear about the ball.” 

“It was just a ball,” began Aunt Em- 
meline. 

“The County Ball,” put in grandma. 
“They always have one every year at Fair 


A HEARTY DINNER 


89 


time. Emmeline was sixteen and I was 
eighteen. Now go on, Emmeline.” 

“I wore white tarlatan trimmed with 
forget-me-nots,” said Aunt Emmeline, 
“and I danced my first dance with Steve 
Hardesty.” She paused and gave a lit- 
tle sigh. “He took me into supper, too, 
poor Steve.” Grandma leaned over and 
laid her hand softly on her sister’s. “It 
is such a long time, such a very long time 
ago,” she said softly. 

Aunt Emmeline smiled a little sadly. 
“Yes, a long time,” she repeated. “You 
wore, what was it you wore, Cecelia I” 
“I wore pink tarlatan trimmed with 
rosebuds and'a wreath of them in my hair. 
The skirt was caught up with bunches of 
the little buds and green leaves, and I 
thought it the prettiest dress I ever saw.” 

“It was a great ball,” Aunt Emmeliue 
went on, brightening. “I danced every 
set, and so did you, Cecelia.” 


90 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“And how everj^one did talk because I 
danced so many with Ben Willis whom I 
had met for the first time that night. He 
would see me home, you remember, al- 
though Uncle Phil and Cousin Dick were 
both there to look after us ; we were stay- 
ing at our uncle’s, my dears. It was dur- 
ing the early days of the war, and there 
was much talk of what would happen next 
and who would he going off to join the 
army, you remember.” 

“It was not till two years after, that 
Steve went,” said Aunt Emmeline wist- 
fully. 

“Tell us about Steve,” spoke up Frank. 
“Did he become a soldier?” 

Celia shook her head warningly at her 
little brother, for she knew Aunt Em- 
meline’s story, and of how her young 
lover was killed in battle, but Aunt Em- 
meline did not hesitate to answer. “Yes, 
he went, but he never came back.” 


A HEARTY DINNER 


91 


Silence fell upon the little group for a 
moment till Aunt Emmeline herself broke 
it by saying, “Do you remember, Cecelia, 
how angry you were with Polly Parker 
because she copied, your dress, and how 
you were going to have yours trimmed 
Muth daisies, and changed all that at the 
last moment f I can see you now, ripping 
off those inoffensive daisies and flinging 
them on the floor,” 

Grandma laughed. “Well, after all, 
hers wasn’t a bit like mine, for it was a 
different shade of pink and wasn’t made 
the same way. Yes, I was furious, I re- 
member, because it wasn’t the flrst time 
Polly had copied my things; she had a 
way of doing it.” 

“Here comes grandpa,” announced 
Herbert who did not find all this talk of 
dress and balls very interesting. 

The entrance of grandpa and Uncle 
Bert broke up the party by the fire, for 


92 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


soon the sandwiches and other things 
were brought in, then came songs and 
games till, before anyone realized it, bed- 
time came and Thanksgiving Day was 
over. 


CHAPTER V 


THE RED BOOK 

Whether it was the search for the key in 
the chill of the early morning, or whether 
it was that she ate too heartily of grand- 
ma’s good things, certain it was that when 
Edna waked up the morning after 
Thanksgiving, she felt very listless and 
miserable. Her father was already up 
and dressed, and her mother was making 
her toilet when the little girl turned over 
and watched her with heavy eyes. 

“Well, little girl,” said Mrs. Conway, 
“it seems to me that it is time for you to 
get up.” 

Edna gave a long sigh, closed her eyes, 
but presently found the courage to make 
an effort towards rising. She threw 
aside the covers, slipped her feet into her 


94 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


red worsted slippers, and then sat on the 
side of her cot in so dejected an attitude 
that her mother noticed it. “What,” she 
said, ‘ ‘ are you so very sleepy still ? I sus- 
pect you are tired out from yesterday’s 
doings.” 

“My head aches and there are cold 
creeps running up and down my back,” 
Edna told her. 

Her mother came nearer, and laid her 
cool hand on the throbbing temples. 
‘ ‘ Y our head is hot, ’ ’ she declared. ‘ ‘ I am 
afraid you have taken cold. Cuddle back 
under the covers and I will bring or send 
your breakfast up to you.” 

“I don’t think I want any breakfast,” 
said Edna, snuggling down with a grate- 
ful feeling for the warmth and quiet. 

“Not want any breakfast? Then you 
certainly aren’t well. When waffles and 
fried chicken cannot tempt you, I know 
something is wrong.” 


THE RED BOOK 


95 


Mrs. Conway went on with the flnishmg 
touches to her dress and hair while Edna 
dozed, but half conscious of what was go- 
ing on around her. She did not hear her 
mother leave the room, and did not know 
how long it was before she heard Celia’s 
voice saying: “Mother says you’d better 
try to drink this.” 

“This” was a cup of hot milk of which 
Edna tried to take a few sips and then lay 
back on her pillow. “I don’t want it,” 
she said. 

“Poor little sister,” said Celia com- 
miseratingly. “It is too bad you don’t 
feel well. Is there anything I can do for 
you?” 

“No, thank you,” replied Edna weakly. 

“Mother is coming up in a minute,” 
Celia went on. “Uncle Bert and all of 
them are going this morning, but as soon 
as they are off she will come up to see how 
you are.” 


96 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Is everyone going I” asked Edna lan- 
guidly. 

“No, not this morning. Uncle Bert 
and his family take the morning train be- 
cause they have the furthest to go, and 
Aunt Lucia wants to get home with the 
children before dark. Uncle Wilbur, 
Aunt Emmeline and all those are going on 
the afternoon train. Father thinks he 
must get back to-day, too.” 

Edna made no answer, but closed her 
eyes again drowsily. 

“I’ll set the milk down here,” Celia 
went on, “and maybe you will feel like 
drinking some more of it after a little 
while.” 

She set the cup on a chair by Edna’s 
bedside and stole softly out of the room, 
leaving her sister to fall into another doze 
from which she was awakened by hearing 
a timid voice say : “Excuse me. I hope 
you are not asleep, but I want to say good- 


THE RED BOOK 


97 


bye,” and turning over, Edna saw her lit- 
tle Cousin Lulie. 

“Oh, are you going?” came from the lit- 
tle girl in bed. 

“Yes, we are all ready. I am so sorry 
you are sick. I like you so much and I 
wish you would come to our house some 
day.” 

Edna was too polite not to make some 
effort of appreciation, so she sat up and 
held out her little hot hand. “Oh, thank 
you,” she answered; “I should love to 
come, and I wish you could come to see us. 
Ask Uncle Bert to bring you real soon.” 

“Mother said I had better not kiss 
you,” remarked Lulie honestly, “for I 
might take your cold, but I have folded 
up a kiss in this piece of paper and I will 
put it here so you can get it when I am 
gone.” 

Edna smiled at this and liked Lulie all 
the better for the fancy. “I won’t forget 


98 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


it,” she said earnestly, “I will send you 
one when I get well, but you’d better not 
take a feverish one with you. Good-bj^e, 
and say good-bye to all the others.” 

“They would have come, too,” Lulie in- 
formed her, “but mother thought one of 
us was enough when you had a headache, 
and that I could bring all the good-byes 
for the others. Now I must go. Get well 
soon.” And she was off leaving Edna 
with a consciousness of it’s being a wise 
decree which prevented more visitors, for 
her headache was so much the worse for 
having had but one. 

She lay very still wishing the noises be- 
low would cease, the running back and 
forth, the shutting of doors, the calling of 
the boys to one another and the crying of 
the baby. But last of all she heard the 
carriage wheels on the gravel, and then it 
was suddenly silent. The boys had all 
gone off to play, and the only sounds now 


THE RED BOOK 


99 


were occasional footsteps on the stair, the 
stirring of the kitchen fire, and outside, 
the distant ‘^Caw! Caw!” of the crows 
in the trees. For a long time she was 
very quiet. Once her mother came to the 
door and peeped in, but, seeing no move- 
ment, believed the child asleep, but later 
she came in and Edna opened her eyes to 
see her standing by her bedside. 

“Poor little lass,” said her mother, 
“you’re not feeling well at all, are you? 
I am afraid you have a little fever. I will 
give you something that I hope will make 
you feel better.” 

“Not any nasty medicine,” begged 
Edna. 

“No, only some tiny tablets that you can 
swallow right down with a little water.” 
She went to the bureau and found the lit- 
tle phial she was in search of. After 
shaking out a few pellets in her hand, she 
brought them to Edna with a glass of 


100 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


water and the child took the dose obedi- 
ently, for she knew these small tablets of 
old. 

“Now,” Mrs. Conway went on, “I will 
cover you up warm, and you must try to 
get to sleep. Grandma is trjdng to keep 
the house quiet and Ben has taken off the 
boys. I am going to tidy up the room 
and stay here with you for awhile. 
There, now; you will be more comfortable 
that way,” and under her mother’s loving 
touches Edna felt happier already and in 
a short time fell into a sound sleep from 
which she awakened feeling brighter. 
Her mother was sitting by the window 
crocheting where the sun was streaming 
in. 

Edna sat up and pushed back the hair 
from her face. Her mother noticed the 
movement. “Well, dearie,” she said, 
“you have had a nice nap and I hope you 
feel ever so much better.” 


THE BED BOOK 


101 


“Yes, I think I do,” said the child a lit- 
tle doubtfully. 

“That wasn’t a very enthusiastic voice. 
You can’t be sure about it?” 

“Yes, I can. I do feel a great deal 
better.” 

“And as if you would like a little some- 
thing to eat?” 

“Why — ^what could I eat?” 

“How would some milk toast and a 
soft-boiled egg do?” 

“I like milk toast pretty well, but I 
don’t believe I Avant the egg.” 

“Not when it will be freshly laid this 
morning?” 

“I couldn’t have it fried, I suppose?” 

“Better not. I’ll tell you what I will 
do ; I will go down and ask grandma what 
she thinks would be best for you. Would 
you like to sit up in bed ? I can put some- 
thing over your shoulders and prop you 
up with pillows, or how would you like 


102 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


to get into my bed ? There is more room 
and you can look out of the window. I 
will bundle you up and carry you over.” 

“I’d like that,” returned Edna in a sat- 
isfied tone; it was always a treat to get 
into mother’s bed. 

Mrs. Conway turned down the covers 
of her own bed, slipped Edna into her 
flannel wrapper, threw a shawl around 
her and carried her across the room to de- 
posit her in the big bed. “There,” she 
said, “you can keep your wrapper on till 
you get quite warm. Let me put this pil- 
low behind your back. That’s it. Now, 
then, how do you like the change?” 

“Oh, I like it,” Edna assured her. 
“And my head is much better.” 

“I think you’d better stay in bed, how- 
ever, for we want to break up that cold. 
There is no better way to do it than to 
keep you in bed for to-day at least. Now 
I will go down and interview grandma.” 


THE RED BOOK 


103 


She left the room, and Edna heard her 
talking to some one in the entry. Then 
the door opened and grandma herself 
came in. “Good morning, dear child,” 
she said. “I wanted to come up before, 
but it seemed best to keep you quiet. I 
am so glad to hear that you are feeling 
better, but you must be careful not to take 
more cold. Would you like to have 
Serena to keep you company?” 

“Oh, I should like her very much,” re- 
turned Edna. 

Her grandmother left the room return- 
ing presently with an old-fashioned doll 
which had been hers when she was a little 
girl. The doll was dressed in the fashion 
of sixty years ago and was quite a differ- 
ent creature from Edna’s Virginia. She 
always liked Serena in spite of her black 
corkscrew curls and staring blue eyes. 
Whenever she visited Overlea, Serena 
was given to her to play with, as a special 


104 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


priAalege. Her grandma knew that Edna 
was careful, hut she would not have 
brought out this relic of her childhood for 
everyone. “I will put this little shawl 
around her before you take her, for she 
has been in a cooler room, and it might 
chill you to touch her,” said grandma, as 
she woimd a small worsted shawl over 
Serena’s blue silk frock. will put her 
on the bed there right by you and then I 
will go down to see if Amanda has any- 
thing that is fit for a little invalid to eat.” 
She kissed the top of Edna’s head and 
went out leaving her to Serena’s company. 

It was not long before Edna heard 
some one coming slowly up the stair, then 
there was a pause before the door, next a 
knock and second pause before Edna’s 
“Come in” was answered by Reliance 
who carefully bore a tray on which stood 
several covered dishes. 

“I asked Mrs. Willis to please let me 


THE BED BOOK 


105 


bring this up,” said Eeliance. “I am so 
sorry you are sick. I am dreadfully 
afraid you took cold hunting that key.” 

“Oh, I don’t suppose it was that,” Edna 
tried to reassure her. “I might have 
taken cold yesterday, for I got so warm 
running when we were playing Hide-and- 
Seek. Oh, how lovely, Eeliance, you 
have brought up grandma’s dear little 
dishes that were given her when she was a 
little girl. I love those little dishes with 
the flowers on them.” 

“You’re to eat this first,” said Eeli- 
ance, uncovering a small tureen in which 
some delicious chicken broth was steam- 
ing. “There is toast to go with it. Then 
if you feel as if you wanted any more, 
there is a little piece of cold turkey and 
some jelly.” 

But in spite of her belief that she could 
eat every bit of what was before her, Edna 
could do no more than manage the broth 


106 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


and one piece of toast, Reliance watching 
her solicitously while she ate. “You’re 
not very peckish, are you*?” she said. 
“Well, anyhow I am glad this didn’t come 
on before you had your Thanksgiving; it 
would have been dreadful if it had hap- 
pened yesterday.” 

“I am glad, too,” returned Edna. 
“What time is it, Reliance?” 

“It’s most dinner time. As soon as the 
boys come in, it will be ready. I’ll take 
back the tray, hut I have to go awful care- 
ful, for I would sooner break my leg than 
these dishes.” She bore off the tray as 
Edna snuggled back against her pillows, 
holding one of Serena’s kid hands in hers 
in order that she might feel less alone. 
She was not left long to Serena’s sole 
company, however, for first came her 
father to say good-bye, then Aunt Emme- 
line stopped at the door, and behind her, 
Cousin Becky and Uncle Wilbur, all 


THE RED BOOK 


107 


ready with sympathy and good wishes. 
A little later, she heard the carriage drive 
off which should take all these to the train. 
There was silence for a time which finally 
was interrupted by a tap at the door. 

‘‘Come in,” called Edna. 

The door opened, and in walked Ben 
with a large red book under his arm. 
“Hello, you little old scalawag,” he said. 
“What in the world did you go and do this 
for?” 

“I couldn’t help it,” said Edna apolo- 
getically. 

“You poor, little, old kitten, of course 
you couldn’t. Well, I have brought you 
up Mr. Fox, and I wanted to tell you that 
the lady by the willow has had another ac- 
cident; she dropped her last chocolate 
marshmallow and the dog stepped on it. 
Of course, that wasn’t as bad as the first, 
but when you have only one handkerchief 
it is pretty hard to have to cry it twice 


108 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


full of tears. Fortunately, hers has had 
a chance to dry between whiles.” 

Edna smiled. It was good to have Ben 
come in with his nonsense. “Hasn’t she 
found her eyelash yef?” 

“No, and it was a wet one which is aw- 
fully hard to find unless it is raining; it 
is hard enough then, goodness knows. 
How did you stand all the racket this 
morning'? If a noisy noise annoys an 
oyster, how much of a noisy noise does it 
take to annoy Pinky Blooms'? That 
sounds like a problem in mental arithme- 
tic, but it isn’t. Shall I read to you a 
little?” 

“Oh, please.” 

“About Eeynard, the Fox, shall it be?” 

“Oh, yes. I do so want to know how he 
lost his tail.” 

“Then, here goes,” said Ben, as he 
opened the big, red book. Edna settled 
herself back against the pillows and Ben 


THE RED BOOK 


109 


began the story, while Edna was so inter- 
ested that she forgot all about her head- 
ache. He finished the tale before he put 
the book down. “How do you like it?” 
he asked. 

“It is perfectly fine. Are there other 
stories in that book?” 

“Yes, some mighty good ones. Here, 
do you want to see the pictures? They 
are funny and old-fashioned, but they are 
jDretty good for all that.” He laid the 
book across Edna ’s knees and showed her 
the illustrations relating to Reynard, the 
Fox, all of which interested her vastly. 

“I am so glad I know about this book,” 
she said as she came to the last page. “I 
always thought it was only for grown-ups, 
and never even looked at it. Will you 
read me some more to-morrow?” 

“Sorry I can’t, ducky dear, for I am off 
by the morning train to a football game 
which I can’t miss.” 


110 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Oh, I forgot about that. Are the boys 
going, too?” 

“Yes, and Celia. We are all going 
back together. There is something on at 
the Evanses Saturday night, and Celia 
wouldn’t mi ss that.” 

“Neither would you,” said Edna slyly. 

“You’re a mean, horrid, little girl,” 
said Ben in a high, little voice. “I’m jvist 
going to take my hook and go home, so I 
am.” 

“It isn’t your book; it is grandma’s.” 

“I don’t care if it is; I’m not going to 
play with you, and I will slap your doll 
real hard.” 

“Do you mean Serena? She isn’t my 
doll; she is grandma’s. Her name is Se- 
rena, don’t you remember? I’ve known 
her ever since I was a little, little thing.” 

“And what are you now but a little, lit- 
tle thing, I should like to know.” 

“I’m bigger than Lulie Willis, but I’m 


THE RED BOOK 


111 


not big enough to go to Agnes’s party 
Saturday night.” She spoke somewhat 
soberly, for she did want to be there. 

“Oh, never mind,” said Ben, with an 
air of comforting her, “I shall be there 
and I am as big as two of you.” 

“I don’t see how that makes it any bet- 
ter,” said Edna, after searching her mind 
for a reason why it should be of any com- 
fort to her. 

“Oh, yes it does,” returned Ben, “for 
if I were only as big as you I shouldn’t be 
there either.” 

“As if that helped it.” 

“Oh, yes it does, for, you see, they will 
have a lot of good things and I can eat 
enough for you and me both, I am sure,” 
he added triumphantly. “That is an ex- 
cellent argument. If a thing can be done 
for two persons instead of one, it makes 
all the difference in the world.” 

Edna put her head back against the pH- 


112 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


lows. Ben was too mucli for her when he 
took that stand. 

“There,” said the lad contritely, “I’m 
making your head worse by my foolish- 
ness. Are you tired? Is there anything 
I can do for you? Would you like one of 
the kittens?” 

“Oh, yes, Ben, I would. They are so 
comforting and cozy. I am glad you 
thought of that.” 

“Shall I leave the red book or take it 
down?” 

“Leave it, please; I might like to look 
at it after a while.” 

So Ben went off, returning directly 
with one of the kittens which he deposited 
on the bed and which presently cuddled 
close to the child. Then Ben left her, 
Serena by her side and the kitten purring 
contentedly in her arms. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE OLD HOUSE 

Although Edna was much better the 
next day, it was thought prudent to keep 
her indoors. All the guests departed 
with the exception of her mother, her 
Aunt Alice and her own self, the house re- 
sumed its ordinary quiet and seemed 
rather an empty place after its throng of 
Thanksgiving visitors. 

“You’d better make up your mind to 
stay another week, daughter,” said grand- 
ma to Edna’s mother. “This child isn’t 
fit to be out, and won’t be for two or three 
days.” 

“Oh, I think she will be able to go by 
Monday,” replied Mrs. Conway. “I 
shouldn’t like to keep her out of school so 
long.” 


114 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Her health is of much more impor- 
tance than school,” grandma went on. 
“She is always well up in her studies, isn’t 
she? You remember that I didn’t have 
the usual visit last summer, and as Alice 
is going to stay we could all have a nice 
cozy time together.” 

“But how would things go on at home 
without me?” 

“Plenty well enough. I am sure Lizzie 
can take care of Henry and the boys.” 

“I am not so sure about the boys, 
though I suppose Henry could get along 
very well, and Celia is in town all through 
the week.” 

“Why couldn’t Charlie and Frank stay 
with the Porter boys till we get back?” 
piped up Edna from her stool by the fire. 
“You know, mother, that Mrs. Porter has 
asked and asked them, for her boys have 
already stayed weeks with us in the sum- 


mer. 


THE OLD HOUSE 


115 


“Ye-es, I know,” returned Mrs. Con- 
way, a little doubtfully. 

“I am sure that is an excellent plan,” 
said grandma, beaming at Edna over her 
knitting. ‘‘Edna will be all the better for 
a week bere, and indeed for a longer 
time.” 

“Oh, we couldn’t stay longer than next 
Saturday at the very outside,” put in 
Mrs. Coiway hastily. “I’d love to stay, 
mother dear, but you know a housekeeper 
cannot be too long away, especially when 
she has not arranged beforehand to do 
so.” 

Grandma nodded at Edna. “We’ll 
consider it settled that you are to stay for 
another week. Let’s have it all arranged, 
daughter. Call up long distance and let 
Henry know.” 

“I promised him, anyhow, that I would 
let him know to-day how Edna was get- 
ting along. He was afraid when he went 


116 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


away that she might be in for a serious 
illness. I shall he glad to let him know 
she is better.” 

“And he will be so glad to hear that, he 
won’t mind your telling him you will stay 
longer,” remarked grandma with a little 
laugh. 

Mrs. Conway went to the telephone and 
soon it was settled that they were to re- 
main. “I don’t know’^ what Uncle Justus 
will say,” Mrs. Conw^ay observed when 
she reentered the room. “He will think 
I am a very injudicious mother to keep 
you out of school so long.” 

“Not if you tell him I was sick,” re- 
turned Edna, who secretly rather enjoyed 
the prospect of making such an announce- 
ment. Like most children, she liked the 
importance which an illness gave to her 
small self. 

Saturday was an indoors day spent 
with Serena, Virginia and the big, red 


THE OLD HOUSE 


117 


book. Sunday, too, Edna was shut in ex- 
cept for the few minutes she was allowed 
to walk up and down the porch in the sun. 
She was well wrapped up for this event, 
and was charged not to put foot on the 
damp ground. 

It had been rather a lonesome morning, 
with everyone at church except Amanda, 
but the little girl stood it pretty w^ell. 
She read aloud to an audience consisting 
of the two dolls and the three kittens, she 
sang hymns, in rather a husky voice to be 
sure, and she stood at the window a long 
time watching the people pass by on their 
way to and from church. 

In the afternoon, her grandfather took 
his two daughters to see some relative, 
Eeliance went off to Sunday school, and 
Edna was left alone with her grandmother 
who told her stories and sang, to the ac- 
companiment of the melodeon she had 
used when a little girl. Edna enjoyed 


118 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


this performance very much, hut after a 
while grandma was tired of an instrument 
that skipped notes and wheezed like an 
old horse, so they went back to the big 
chair by the open fire. Grandma contin- 
ued the singing, rocking Edna in her arms 
till the child fell fast asleep, the drowsy 
hum of the tea-kettle, hanging on the 
crane, helping to make a lullaby. When 
she woke up it was nearly dark. She 
heard her mother’s voice in the hall and 
realized that the long Sabbath day was 
nearly over. 

This was the last shut-in day, for the 
weather was clear and bracing, and, well 
wrapped up, Edna was able to enjoy it. 
Eeliance always joined her when the work 
was done in the afternoon, and she led her 
to the acquaintance of two or three other 
little girls : Alcinda Hewlett, the daughter 
of the postmaster, Eeba Manning, the 
minister’s daughter, and Esther Ann Ta- 


THE OLD HOUSE 


119 


ber who lived just across the way. These 
three were playing with Eeliance and 
Edna in front of Esther Ann’s one day 
when suddenly Esther spoke up: “I 
know where there is an empty house and 
anyone can go into it who wants to.” 

“Where is it?” asked Eeba, with in- 
terest. 

“Down past old Sam Titus’s. Don’t 
you know that brown house back there by 
the orchard?” 

“Oh, but it is haunted,” cried Alcinda. 

“Nonsense, it couldn’t be,” put in 
Eeba. “My father says there aren’t such 
things as haunted houses, and he ought to 
know.” 

The word of such high authority as the 
minister could not be gainsaid, though the 
suggestion gave the girls rather a creepy 
feeling. 

“I’ll dare you all to go in there with 
me,” spoke up Esther Ann. 


120 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Oh, Esther Ann, dast we?” said Al- 
cinda. 

“Why not? Nobody lives there, and I 
don’t believe anyone owns it, for there is 
never a person goes in or out, even to do 
spring cleaning. I heard my mother say 
that two old ladies lived there, sisters, and 
they didn’t speak to one another for 
years; that was long ago and since they 
died nobody knows who the place belongs 
to, for it isn’t ever lived in.” 

“Like that place where we go to gather 
chestnpts,” spoke up Eeba. “Anybody 
can go there and get all they want. My 
father said I could go, and that it was all 
right, and he knows.” 

“Of course he does,” agreed Esther 
Ann. “Come, who is going with me?” 

“I’d as soon go as not,” Reliance w'as 
the first to speak. 

“How do you get in?” asked Alcinda, a 
little doubtfully. 


THE OLD HOUSE 


121 


“Walk in, goosey. Just open the door 
and walk in.” 

“Isn’t the door locked*?” 

“The back door isn’t. I tried it one 
day,” replied Esther Ann. 

“Why didn’t you go in then?” asked 
Alcinda. 

“Well, I was all by myself, and — and — 
I thought it would be nicer to have some 
one with me ; it always is when you want 
to explore.” 

This seemed a perfectly reasonable 
answer, and the others were reassured, 
moreover, to a company of five, nothing 
was likely to happen, they thought, and 
the spirit of adventure was high in the 
breast of more than one. 

“We’d better start right along,” sug- 
gested Reliance, “for I have to be back, 
and Edna mustn’t stay out after dark.” 

“Then, come along, all that want to go,” 
cried Esther Ann, taking the lead. 


122 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


Off they started down the wide street 
bordered by maples, now shorn of their 
leaves, but furnishing a carpet of yellow 
underfoot, past the church, the store, the 
schoolhouse and on to the old brown house 
sitting back behind an orchard of gnarled, 
crooked apple trees. The place was all 
groAvn up with weeds, though here and 
there were signs of a former garden. Up 
the rotting pillars of the porch a wood- 
bine still clambered, and around the door, 
lilac bushes kept their green. 

Though she had come thus far Avithout 
mishap, Alcinda’s courage suddenly failed 
her and she turned and ran. 

“ ’Fraid cat! ’Fraid cat!” called Es- 
ther Ann after her. 

This had the effect of arresting Alcinda 
in her flight and she stood still. 

“Come on,” cried Esther Ann. 

“I don’t want to,” called back Alcinda. 
“I’ll wait out here for you.” 


THE OLD HOUSE 


123 


“You don’t know what you’re miss- 
ing,” Esther Ann called back, trying once 
more to persuade her, 

“I’ll wait for you here,” repeated Al- 
cinda taking up her position on the horse 
block by the gate. 

“All right,” responded Esther Ann, 
and opened the door which gave easily as 
she turned the knob. 

The four little girls found themselves 
in a dingy kitchen whose belongings re- 
mained as they had been left years before. 
Cobwebs hung from the ceiling ; dust was 
everywhere. The stove rusty and falling 
to pieces^ still held one or two pots and 
pans. There was crockery on the dresser, 
and a lamp on the table. 

Esther Ann led the way to the next 
room. “I don’t think this one is a bit 
interesting,” she made the remark as she 
penetrated further. 

“Do you think we ought to go?” whis- 


124 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


pered Edna to Reliance, as these two 
lagged a little in the rear. 

‘‘Why not? Anyone can come in if it 
belongs to no one, and they say it doesn’t 
belong to a soul. Nobody lives here and 
why haven’t we a right as well as the rest 
of the world?” 

This argument satisfied Edna and she 
followed along through the deserted 
rooms, catching sight of a moth-eaten 
cover here, a bunch of withered flowers 
there. Books, long untouched, lay half 
open on a table in one room, the bed was 
still unmade in another, and everything 
was confusion. 

“Isn’t it lovely and spooky?” said 
Esther Ann, tingling with excitement. 
“I’m going to see what is in those bureau 
drawers.” 

She darted toward an old-fashioned 
bureau which stood in the room, flopped 
down on her knees, and drew out the lower 



“Oh, Girls, Look Here” 






t 







■ » 




1 


t 







THE OLD HOUSE 


125 


drawer. “Oh, girls,” she cried, “look 
here.” 

The others gathered around her to see 
boxes in which were the treasures of a 
forgotten owner, — strings of beads, half- 
worn white kid gloves, a fan with ivory 
sticks, combs, and ornaments of various 
kinds. 

“Let’s each take something home to 
her mother,” proposed Esther Ann. “I 
speak for the fan.” 

“Oh, Esther, do you dare?” asked 
Eeba. 

“Why not? They don’t belong to any- 
one,” came back the old argument. 

“Some one else will most likely take 
them if we don’t,” remarked Reliance 
conclusively. 

This satisfied the less venturesome, and 
they all sat down on the floor to make a se- 
lection. Eeba chose a quaint, silver buc- 
kle, Reliance selected a mother-of-pearl 


126 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


card-case, Edna decided upon a tortoise- 
shell comb. 

“Wasn’t it lovely that we should find 
them?” said Esther Ann enthusiastically. 
“It will he so nice to be able to take home 
presents. I am glad no one else found 
them before we did.” 

“I wonder how long the back door has 
been opened,” said Reba. “Has it al- 
ways been?” 

“I don’t know. I never tried it till the 
other day,” Esther Ann told her. 

After rummaging a little further and 
discovering frocks and coats of unfamil- 
iar cut hanging in the closets and ward- 
robes, and coming upon mouldy slippers, 
and queer-looking hats in other places, 
they concluded they must go. Aleinda 
had wearied of waiting and had gone off 
long before, therefore, the four, after 
shutting the door behind them, took their 
way through the leaf-strewn path to the 


THE OLD HOUSE 


127 


gate, then up the street to their respective 
homes. 

“Don’t you think Mrs. Willis will be 
pleased with the card-case?” asked Reli- 
ance, as they were entering the gate at 
Overlea. 

“I’m siire she will. She can use it 
when she goes to the city to see Uncle 
Bert, and I know mother will like this 
comb,” returned Edna. 

Reliance had no time to present her gift 
at that moment for Amanda called her to 
come at once to attend to her duties, re- 
marking that she was late, but Edna 
hunted up her mother who was upstairs. 
“Oh, mother, mother,” she cried, entering 
the room where her mother was, “see what 
I have for you. Isn’t it pretty?” 

Her mother looked up from the letter 
she was writing. “What is it, dear? 
Why, Edna, what a beautiful comb. 
Where did you get it?” 


128 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“I found it,” replied Edna in an as- 
sured tone. “We all found lovely 
things.” Then she launched forth upon 
an account of the afternoon’s adventures. 

Her mother listened attentively, and 
when the child had finished her tale, she 
drew her close to her side, kissing the lit- 
tle, eager face, and saying, “Dear child, I 
am afraid you have made a mistake. The 
things were not for you little girls to 
take.” 

“But mother, they didn’t belong to any- 
one. They have been there for years and 
years, and nobody wants them.” 

“They would have to belong to some 
one, dear child. We will ask grandma 
about the house and whose property it is. 
Let us go find her.” 

They hunted up Mrs. Willis who lis- 
tened interestedly to what they had to 
tell. “The old Topham house,” she said 
when they had finished. “It belonged to 


THE OLD HOUSE 


129 


two sisters, Miss Nancy and Miss Tabitha 
Tophana. These two lived together for 
years, but finally they quarreled and each 
vowed that she would never speak to the 
other. They died within a few weeks of 
one another and there were no nearer 
heirs than distant cousins who have never 
troubled themselves to look after the 
place. Old Nathan Holcomb was the 
nearest neighbor and he used to keep 
things pretty well secured, but since his 
death the place has been going to rack and 
ruin more and more each year. There is 
some fine, old furniture there and it is a 
wonder everything in the house has not 
been stolen before now, but as the place 
has the reputation of being haunted it has 
been more or less avoided. I never heard 
of its being open to the public and I shall 
speak to some one who will see that it is 
made secure. Even if it is not valued by 
the present owners, it should not be left 


130 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


for tramps or any chance vagrant to make 
use of.” 

Edna looked down at the comb which 
she still held in her hand. “What must 
I do about this?” she asked. 

“You must take it back to-morrow and 
restore it to its place,” her mother told 
her. “I am perfectly sure that not one 
of you little girls dreamed that she had no 
right to take the things, but nevertheless, 
they were not yours, and I am very cer- 
tain that the other mothers will say the 
same thing.” 

“Eeliance has a lovely card-case,” said 
Edna, regretfully. “She was going to 
give it to you, grandma.” 

Mrs. Willis smiled. “I appreciate the 
spirit, but she must not be allowed to keep 
it, my dear.” 

Edna’s face sobered. She felt much 
crestfallen. She wondered what Eeba’s 
father would say. 


THE OLD HOUSE 


131 


She did not have long to Avait to find 
this out for after supper came two young 
callers who sidled in with rather shame- 
faced expressions. “Suppose you take 
Reha and Esther Ann into the dining- 
room for a little while,” suggested grand- 
ma encouragingly. “Little folks like to 
chatter about their own affairs, I well 
know. ’ ’ 

Edna shot her grandma a grateful look 
and soon was closeted witli the little girls. 
“Oh, Edna, what did your mother say?” 
began Esther Ann. 

“She said I must take back the comb, 
because I had no right to take it. ’ ’ 

“That’s just what my mother said,” re- 
turned Esther Ann. 

“My father said it’s dishonest,” put in 
Reha, “I mean dishonest to keep it. He 
knew we didn’t mean to steal.” 

“Oh, Reha, don’t say such a dreadful 
word,” said Edna in distress. 


132 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“It would be stealing, you know, if we 
were to keep the things,” continued Eeba 
bluntly. “My father says you couldn’t 
call it by any other name, and that to 
break into a house is burglary.” 

This sounded even more dreadful, 
though Esther Ann relieved the speech of 
its effect by saying: “But we didn’t 
break in; we just opened the door and 
walked in. There wouldn’t have been 
anyone to answer if we had knocked.” 

“That makes me feel kind of shivery,” 
remarked Edna. “I would rather not go 
back, but I suppose we shall have to.” 

“Yes, we shall have to,” Reba made the 
statement determinedly. 

Therefore, it was with anything but an 
adventurous spirit that the four little 
girls went on their errand the next after- 
noon. There was no poking into nooks 
and corners this time, but straight to the 
bureau went they. Solemnly was each 


THE OLD HOUSE 


133 


article returned to the box from which it 
was taken. Silently they tip-toed down 
the dusty stairs and through the silent 
rooms to the outer air where each drew a 
sigh of relief. Esther Ann was the first 
to speak. “There, that’s done,” she said. 
“I don’t ever want to go there again.” 

“Nor I.” 

“Nor I.” 

“Nor I,” chanted the other three. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE MILL STREAM 

Oh their way home from the old house, 
the four girls saw Alcinda approaching. 
“Don’t let’s say anything to her about 
where we’ve been,” said Esther Ann. 

“No, don’t let’s,” returned Reba; “you 
know she didn’t want to go there in the 
first place.” 

“It was only because she was scared to,” 
rejoined Esther Ann. 

“Well, anyhow, don’t let’s say anything 
about it,” continued Reba. “Don’t you 
say so, girls 1 ’ ’ She looked over her shoul- 
der at Edna and Reliance who were walk- 
ing behind. 

“I don’t see any reason why we should,” 
said Reliance. “Of course, if she should 


THE MILL STEBAM 


135 


ask questions, we wouldn’t tell her a 
story.” 

“Oh, no, we wouldn’t do that,” agreed 
the other girls. 

But Alcinda had no thought of old 
houses or anything else at this time hut 
her little dog. Jetty, a handsome, black 
Pommeranian to whom she was devoted 
and of whom she was very proud. “Oh, 
girls,” she exclaimed as she came up, 
“have you seen or heard anything of 
J etty ? We haven ’t seen him since morn- 
ing, and I am so afraid he has been 
stolen.” 

“Oh, wouldn’t that be dreadful?” said 
Edna sympathetically. 

“I don’t see who would steal him,” 
said Esther Ann, practically. “Everyone 
knows he belongs to you, and there aren’t 
many strangers that come through the vil- 
lage.” 

“There are a few. There was a tramp 


136 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 

at our back door only a few days ago.” 

“But you didn’t lose Jet a few days ago ; 
it was only to-day that you missed him.” 

“I think it’s more likely he is shut 
up somewhere,” decided Reba. “Where 
have you looked, Alcindal” 

“Oh, pretty near everywhere I could 
think of, and I have asked everybody who 
might have seen him.” 

“Maybe he has gone off with some other 
dogs,” suggested Reliance. “Dogs will 
do that, and sometimes they don’t come 
back for two or three days. Mr. Prender- 
gast had a dog that did that way. He 
lives near where we used to, you know, and 
he had a collie named Rob Roy that would 
go off now and then, and the other dogs 
would bring him back after a while. He 
would come in looking so ashamed, while 
they stood off to see how he would be 
treated.” 

“Jetty never did run away before,” 


THE MILL STREAM 


137 


said Alcinda, doubtfully, although Reli- 
ance’s words were comforting. 

“When did you see him last and what 
was he doing?” asked Esther Ann. 

“Mother heard him barking at a wagon 
that was going by. He doesn’t bark at 
everyone, but there are some people he 
can’t bear.” 

“What people?” inquired Esther Ann, 
trying to get a clue. 

“He doesn’t like the butcher boy nor 
the man that drives the mill wagon, nor 
the man that brings the laundry. He al- 
ways runs out and barks at them.” 

“Have you asked any of them about 
him?” 

“Ho, not yet.” 

“Then I’ll tell you what let’s do, girls,” 
proposed Esther Ann. “Two of us can 
go around by the mill, two of us can go to 
the butcher’s and Alcinda can go to the 
laundry place.” 


138 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“All right,” exclaimed Alciiida hope- 
fully. “It would be lovely if you all 
would do that.” 

“I speak to go to the butcher’s,” spoke 
up Esther Ann. She was always ready to 
arrange affairs for everyone. “Eeliance, 
you and Edna can go to the mill; it isn’t 
such a very great way, and Eeba can go 
with me.” 

The girls all accepted this arrangement 
and set off in the three different directions. 

“Do you like going to the mill?” asked 
Edna when she and Eeliance were fairly 
on their way. 

“Oh, yes, much better than going to the 
butcher’s. Although it is quite a little 
further, it is a much prettier walk. I al- 
Avays did like mill ponds, didn’t you, 
Edna?” 

“Why, I don’t know much about them, 
but I should think I would like them. Do 
we turn off here?” 


THE MILL STREAM 


139 


“Yes, this road leads straight to the 
mill ; you can see it presently through the 
trees.” 

“It isn’t so very far, is it?” 

“No, but it is a little further to the mill 
pond. I wonder if the miUer is there.” 

“Isn’t he always there?” 

“He is always there in the morning, but 
not always in the afternoon. No, the mill 
is shut down.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I don’t hear it, and see there, the wheel 
isn’t moving,” 

“Oh!” Edna thought that Reliance 
was very clever to know all this before 
they had even reached the mill which now 
loomed up before them, a grey stone struc- 
ture in a little nest of trees which climbed 
the hill behind it, and spread along the 
sides of the stream, flowing on to join the 
river. 

“It is very pretty here, isn’t it?” said 


140 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


Edna admiringly. “Wliat do they call 
the stream, Reliance?” 

“Black Creek. The mill pond and dam 
and sluice and all those are higher up. Do 
you want to go see them?” 

“Why, yes, if we can’t do anything 
about finding J etty . ’ ’ 

“I thought we might go around by the 
miller’s house on our way back; it isn’t 
much further, and we could ask there.” 

This seemed a wise thing to do, Edna 
thought, and she cheerfully followed Reli- 
ance to where the mill pond lay calm and 
smooth before them. “It must be lovely 
here in summer,” remarked Edna en- 
thusiastically. 

“It is one of the prettiest places any- 
where about. We come here sometimes 
for our picnics, all of us school children 
and the teacher. Would you dare go 
across, Edna?” 

Edna looked around but saw no bridge. 


THE MILL STREAM 


141 


“How could we get across?” she asked. 
“I don’t see any way but to swim.” 

Reliance laughed. “There,” she said, 
pointing to the heavy beam which 
stretched from shore to shore and below 
which the water was slowly trickling, 
“that’s the bridge we children always 
use.” 

Edna drew back in dismay. “Oh, how 
canyon? I wouldn’t dare. It is so near 
the water and suppose you should fall in. 
I would be sure to get dizzy, and over I 
would go.” 

“Oh, pooh, I don’t get dizzy,” returned 
Reliance. “I will show you how easy it 
is,” and in another minute she was stand- 
ing on the beam, Edna shivering and with 
a queer sensation under her knees. “Oh, 
do come back. Reliance,” she cried; “I 
am so afraid you will fall in.” 

But Reliance did not hear her, or if she 
did hear, she paid no heed, but stood look- 


142 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


ing earnestly at a point beyond ber in the 
water. “Edna, Edna,” she presently 
called. “You will have to come. I really 
believe it is Jetty out there in the 
water.” 

Edna wrung her hands. “Oh, I can’t, 
I can’t,” she wept. 

“You must help me try to get him in. 
I’ll come back for you.” 

Edna shrank away from the shore, di- 
vided between her fear of crossing and 
her desire to help in the rescue. Eeli- 
ance lost no time in reaching her. “You 
will have to come,” she cried excitedly. 
“He is nearer the other side. I must go 
over and try to find a board or two, and 
you must stay on the beam and watch so 
as to see which way he heads. Poor little 
fellow, I wonder how long he has been in 
there. Come, Edna, you can put your 
arms around my waist and I will go 
ahead; you mustn’t look at the water, but 


THE MILL STREAM 


143 


just step along after me; I won’t let you 
fall.” 

Terrible as this effort promised to be, 
Edna decided that she must make it if 
they would save Jetty, and she followed 
Eeliance, who, encouraging, coaxing, and 
leading the way step by step, managed to 
get the child safely across. ‘‘Isn’t there 
any other way of getting back^’ quav- 
ered Edna when they were over. 

“I think there is a little bridge further 
down, but never mind that now, Edna; 
you stay there and watch, while I get a 
board and put it out toward him. I 
shouldn’t wonder if I could find one some- 
where about.” 

Fearfully, Edna crouched on the beam, 
which seemed but a few inches from the 
water. She kept her eyes fixed on the 
water that she might not lose sight of 
the little black head now not so very far 
away. “Jetty, Jetty,” she called, “we’ll 


144 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


get you out. Nice doggie. Please don’t 
drown before Eeliance conies.” 

The little dog renewed his struggles 
and began to swim toward her, Edna 
continuing her encouraging talk. 

Presently Eeliance came down the bank 
up which she had scrambled; she was 
dragging a board behind her and finding 
some difficulty in doing so. “Is he still 
there?” she panted. 

“Yes, and trying to swim over to me.” 

“Don’t let him, don’t let him. Come 
over on the bank; it will be easier to get 
him from there. There’s another board 
up there. I will go get it if you will hold 
on to this one.” Edna hesitated to cross 
the few feet between her and the shore. 
“Quick, quick,” insisted Eeliance. “He 
might drift to the dam and get caught 
there. We must get him before he 
reaches it. Get down on your hands and 
knees and crawl.” 


THE MILL STREAM 


145 


Edna obeyed and in another moment 
was running along the bank toward Re- 
liance, forgetting everything but her 
eagerness to save the little dog, who, see- 
ing both girls, turned and feebly swam to 
where they were standing. His strength 
was almost spent, and he had hard work 
to keep from being borne along by the 
current which was swifter in the center of 
the pond. 

“I’ll have to shove out the board so he 
can reach it,” said Reliance excitedly. 
“Here, take this pole and try to keep the 
board from drifting toward the dam while 
I go get the other board.” And she 
thrust the forked pole into Edna’s hands 
and then sprang up the bank, while Edna 
crouched down, as near the water as pos- 
sible, in order to make best use of her 
pole. 

It was not easy to keep the board from 
drifting out, but along the shallows it was 


146 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


quiet water and it did not go so very far, 
and before long, the little dog was able to 
reach it, crawling upon it and shivering 
while he wagged his tail feebly as Edna 
continued to cheer him. It was harder 
work now that the board was heavier by 
reason of the added weight, and once or 
twice Edna was afraid that after all her 
efforts would be in vain. It would be 
dreadful to abandon Jetty when he was so 
near to land, and she wished he would at- 
tempt to swim to her. But the little crea- 
ture was too exhausted to make further 
effort now that he had reached footing, 
though he whined a little when the board 
drifted out. 

Just as she was afraid it would go be- 
yond her reach. Reliance came scram- 
bling back, breathless from her exercise. 
“I had such a time,” she panted. “Oh, 
Edna, he is really safe, and it is really 
poor little Jetty. How glad Alcinda will 


THE MILL STREAM 


147 


be. Here, don’t let the board go.” She 
snatched the pole from Edna’s hands. 
“I’ll hold on to it while you push out the 
other board. I can wade in and get him 
if I can’t do anjdhing else.” 

But once so near shore as the second 
board brought him, Jetty was not afraid 
to swim the remaining distance, having 
gathered up a little added strength, and 
after coaxing, ordering and cajoling, the 
girls were rewarded by seeing the little 
creature creep to the edge of the board, 
take to the water again and paddle ashore, 
crouching at their feet in an ecstasy of 

joy. 

“He is so sopping wet I am afraid he 
will take cold,” said Eeliance. “I am go- 
ing to wrap him up in my sweater and 
carry him.” 

“But won’t you take cold,” said Edna 
anxiously. 

“No, for I am too warm with strug- 


148 A DEAE LITTLE GIKL’S HOLIDAYS 


gling up that bank and down again. We 
can walk fast.” 

At first Jetty did not even have power 
to shake himself, but before many min- 
utes, his dripping coat was freed of many 
drops of water, which freely sprinkled 
the girls, who laughing ran at a safe dis- 
tance, and then Reliance wrapped him up 
in her jersey and carried him away from 
the scene of his late disaster. 

“How do you suppose he got in the 
water?” asked Edna as they trudged 
along. 

“I think someone threw him in.” 

“Oh, Reliance, do you really?” 

“Yes, I do. We go right by the mil- 
ler’s house and I am going to stop there 
and ask them what they know about it 
all.” 

“Do you think the miller did it?” 

“Oh, no, he wouldn’t do such a wicked 
thing; he is a very nice man, but he might 


THE MILL STREAM 


149 


have seen Jetty about the place and -we 
may be able to find out something.” 

To Edna’s satisfaction a small foot- 
bridge was discovered a short distance be- 
low and on this they crossed, reaching the 
miller’s house just after. The miller 
himself was just going in the gate. Ee- 
liance marched up to him and without 
wasting words, said : “Do you know how 
this little dog happened to get into the 
mill pond?” 

The miller paused and looked down at 
the black nose peeping from its scarlet 
wrapping. 

“That little dog? I saw him around 
the mill this morning. A man that has 
been driving for me said he found it along 
the road. Is it your dog?” 

“Eo, it belongs to Alcinda Hewlett.” 

“Bob Hewlett’s daughter?” 

“Yes, her father keeps the store and is 
the postmaster.” 


150 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Humph!” The miller stroked his 
chin and looked speculatively at the little 
dog. 

“How do you suppose he got so far 
from home?” ventured Edna. 

“Shouldn’t wonder if he was brought 
in my wagon in an empty sack. Bad 
man, bad man, that Jeh Wilkins.” 

“Jetty always barked at him,” said 
Edna. 

“I guess that accounts for it. Jeh got 
mad and thought he’d pay the little crea- 
ture back. Barked at him, did he ? 
Well, I don’t blame the dog. I did some 
pretty tall growling myself before I dis- 
charged the man. He’s gone now for 
good, or bad, whichever you like.” 

“Do you think he threw the dog in the 
water?” asked Eeliance coming directly 
to the point. 

“That’s just what I do think. I 
shouldn’t wonder if he meant to steal him 


THE MILL STREAM 


151 


at first, and sell him, for it is a valuable 
dog, they tell me, but the dog got out, and 
I was keeping an eye on Jeb so he couldn’t 
make way with the beast. I meant to 
take him home and advertise for his 
owner, but when I came to look for him, 
the dog was gone, though Jeb was there. 
Said, as innocent as you please, when I 
made inquiries, that some people drove 
by and took the dog back to town where he 
belonged, ’ ’ 

“Oh!” exclaimed Edna, her eyes and 
mouth round with surprise and disap- 
proval. 

“Just what he said. Made it up out of 
whole cloth, of course, and meantime had 
taken his spite out on me and the poor lit- 
tle dog by throwing him overboard. How 
did you happen upon him?” 

Reliance gave an account of the rescue 
and received approving nods. “Smart 
girls, you two,” he commented. 


152 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Oil, I wasn’t smart at all,” piped up 
Edna. “It was all Reliance. I couldn’t 
have done a thing without her.” 

“Well,” said Mr. Millikin with a smile, 
“you did your part, and that’s enough 
said. I was just going to unhitch, but 
there is my buggy all ready, and I guess 
the quickest way to get you back to the 
village is to take you there behind Dolly.” 

“Oh, but we can walk, thank you,” 
protested Reliance. 

“It’s pretty much of a walk, and the 
sooner you get there the more pleased sev- 
eral people will be, I for one, because I 
don’t want Bob Hewlett’s little girl to 
mourn for her pet any longer than she 
need, and again, because I am in a way re- 
sponsible for what has happened. I’ll 
go get the buggy right off. You wait 
here; it won’t take a minute.” So pres- 
ently they were driving along toward 
home. Reliance with a horse blanket 


THE MILL STREAM 


153 


around her which Mr. Millikin fished out 
from under the seat and insisted upon her 
putting around her shoulders. 

To say that Alcinda was overjoyed at 
the sight of her little pet which she had 
given up for lost, would be speaking 
mildly. “I’ll never forget you two girls, 
never, ’ ’ she cried. ‘ ‘ I shall thank you for- 
ever and ever, and you, too, Mr. Millikin. ’ ’ 

“Me'? I’m partly to blame, for I 
ought to have discharged that good-for- 
nothing scoundrel long ago, but he was a 
good driver, and I was waiting to fill his 
place. Well, it’s all come out right, after 
all. I hope your little dog will be none 
the worse for the experience. I’ll pay his 
doctor’s bills if he gets sick.” After 
which speech, the miller drove oft, and 
the rescuers darted across the street to 
their home, where the tardiness of their 
appearance was entirely forgiven after 
they had told their story. 


CHAPTER VIII 


jetty’s party 

Geandaia was so concerned lest Edna had 
taken fresh cold by reason of this latest 
adA’enture that she insisted upon putting 
the little girl through a course of treat- 
ment to prevent possible evil results. 
“After dabbling in that cold water and 
getting her feet wet it will be a wonder if 
she isn’t laid up,” said grandma, coming 
into the room just as Edna was going to 
bed. “She must have her feet in mustard 
water, and Amanda is making a hot lem- 
onade for her.” 

So Edna’s feet were thrust into the 
hot bath, and she was made to sip the hot 
drink, then was bundled mto bed with 
charges not to allow her arms out from 
under the covers. It w^as rather a warm 


JETTY’S PARTY 


155 


and unpleasant experience, and the worst 
of it was that grandma said the next 
morning that she mustn’t think of going 
out-of-doors that day. 

“Oh, dear,” sighed the little girl, when 
she was alone with her mother, “don’t you 
think grandma is very particular? Did 
she used to do so when you were a little 
girl?” 

“She did indeed, and when she was a 
little girl it was even worse, for instead 
of lemonade to drink, she was made to 
take a very bitter dose of herb tea, or a 
dreadful mess called composition which 
had every sort of nauseous thing in it you 
can think of. Little folks nowadays get 
off very easily, it seems to me.” 

“I didn’t mind the hot lemonade a bit, 
but I shall never forget the smell of that 
mustard. water,” said Edna after a pause. 

Her mother laughed. “You must be 
thankful that it is no more than that.” 


156 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 

‘‘What am I going to do to-day?” in- 
quired the little girl. “I was going to do 
ever so many nice things out-of-doors and 
now I can’t.” 

“Then we must think up some nice 
things to do indoors.” 

“What kind of things?” 

“I shall have to put on my thinking 
cap in order to find that out. Meanwhile, 
suppose you run down to grandma with 
this tumbler; it had your lemonade in it 
and should go down to be washed.” 

Edna ran off to her grandma, coming 
back presently with a much brighter coun- 
tenance than she took away. “ Grandma 
is going to let me help with the turtle 
cakes,” she said eagerly. “That’s a very 
nice thing, don’t you think?” 

“I think that is very nice indeed.” 

“Amanda is mixing them now, and 
when they are cut out, I am going to help 
with the turtles. Good-bye, mother; I 


JETTY’S PARTY 


157 


Avill bring you one of my turtles as soon as 
they are baked.” 

These turtle cakes were much prized by 
the Conway children. When grandma 
sent a box from the farm there was al- 
ways a supply of these famous cookies. 
Grandma had promised that Edna should 
take some home with her when she went 
on Saturday morning. She watched 
Amanda roll them out, cut them in rounds 
and place them in the pans; then came 
Edna’s part in the preparation. Aman- 
da showed her how to put first a big fat 
raisin in the center of the cake, then a cur- 
rent for the turtle’s head, four cloves 
were then stuck in, part way under the 
raisin, thus making the feet, and for the 
tail, another clove with the sharp end out. 
Amanda could do them much faster than 
Edna, but the child was greatly pleased 
to have completed a whole pan all by her- 
self, and when these were baked she care- 


158 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


fully carried some of them to her mother 
and Aunt Alice. Grandma had already 
seen the results of her granddaughter’s 
labors. 

“I know just how to do them now, 
mother,” said Edna, “and I think it is 
great fun. Grandma is going to save the 
pan I did so I can have them to carry 
home.” 

“You might have a tea-party for the 
dolls this afternoon, and use some of your 
cookies for refreshments.” 

“Could Reliance come*?” 

“Why, I should think so. I have 
thought of something else for you to do 
this morning; you could begin a Christ- 
mas gift for Celia. You know you always 
have a hard time keeping her gift a se- 
cret.” 

“What kind of thing could I make?” 

“I noticed that your sister’s little work 
bag was getting rather dingy and I am 


JETTY’S PARTY 


159 


sure she would be delighted to have a new 
one.” 

“But where will I get anything to make 
it of?” 

“No doubt grandma has something in 
her piece-bag; she always has all sorts of 
odds and ends, and it would give her 
pleasure to let you have anything that 
might serve the purpose. I will ask her, 
and we can get the ribbons for it any time 
between now and Christmas.” 

Her mother was as good as her word, 
and leaving the room came back in a few 
minutes with a large bag whose contents 
she emptied on the bed. “There,” she 
said, “take your choice. Grandma says 
you are perfectly welcome to anything 
you find.” 

Edna began turning over the pieces. 
“You help me choose, mother,” she said 
presently. “I don’t know just how big 
the piece ought to be.” 


160 A DEAK LITTLE GIKL’S HOLIDAYS 


Her mother drew up her chair and be- 
gan to look over the bits of gay silk be- 
fore her. ‘ ‘ I declare, ’ ’ she said presently, 
“here is a piece of a party frock I wore 
when I was about Celia’s age. It was al- 
most my first real new party frock, for 
before that I always wore a simple white 
muslin. This is perfectly new, and must 
have been left over. To think of its be- 
ing in this bag all those years. It ap- 
pears to be sufficiently strong, however.” 
She shook it out and held it up to the 
light. The material was a pale green silk 
with tiny bunches of flowers upon it. 
Edna thought it very pretty. 

“I think Celia will be perfectly de- 
lighted to have a hag made of your first 
party frock, mother,” she said. “Do 
vou think grandma would mind my hav- 
ing it?” 

“I am sure she will he very much 
pleased. We will decide upon that, and 


JETTY’S PARTY 


161 


you can put back the rest of the pieces. 
There will be an abundance in this for a 
nice, full bag I am sure. I will cut it out 
for you and show you just how to make 
it.” 

The time passed so rapidly in planning 
and making the bag that it was the dinner 
hour before they knew it, and after din- 
ner came an unexpected call from Al- 
cinda. She was a sedate-looking little 
girl with big blue eyes and straight, mouse- 
colored hair, but upon this occasion she 
was dimpling and smiling as she handed 
a tiny, three-cornered note to Edna. 
Upon opening this Edna discovered, writ- 
ten in a childish hand, the following 
words, “Mr. Jetty Hewlett requests the 
honor of Miss Edna Conway’s company 
to a tea-party at four o’clock this after- 
noon.” 

“Oh, dear,” sighed Edna, “I’m awfully 
afraid I can’t go, for grandma said it was 


162 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


as mucli as my life was worth to go out of 
the house to-day.” 

“Oh, but you aren’t ill, are you*?” asked 
Alcinda. 

“No, but she is afraid I will be,” 

“But you must come,” persisted Al- 
einda, “for it is in honor of you and 
Reliance, and Jetty is going to help re- 
ceive.” 

“I wiU go ask mother,” returned Edna, 
and running off she returned with Mrs. 
Conway. 

“Mayn’t Edna come to Jetty’s tea- 
party?” begged Alcinda. “We have 
everything planned, and it will be per- 
fectly dreadful if she stays away. She 
won’t take cold, just going across the 
street, and our house is as warm as any- 
thing.” 

Edna looked beseechmgly at her 
mother. “Do please say yes, mother,” 
she begged. 


JETTY’S PARTY 


163 


“I don’t see how you could take cold 
going just across the street, if you wrap 
up well and wear your rubbers,” said her 
mother. 

“Goody! Goody!” cried Alcinda. 
“Here is an invitation for Eeliance, too. 
Be sure to come at four o’clock. I have 
some more invitations to deliver so I must 
go.” 

“Now I needn’t have a tea-party for the 
dolls,” said Edna when Alcinda had gone. 
Her mother smiled. “You speak as if 
that would be a great hardship,” she re- 
marked. 

“No, I don’t mean that, but I would so 
much rather go to Alcinda ’s. Shall I 
wear my best frock, mother?” 

“Why, yes, I think you may.” 

“I wonder if grandma will let Eeliance 
go, and what she will wear,” said Edna, 
after a moment’s thought. “I think I 
wiU go ask, mother, for I don’t want to be 


164 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


better dressed than Reliance ; it was really 
she who saved Jetty, you know.” 

“That is the proper feeling, dear 
child.” 

Edna flew off to find Reliance who had 
received her invitation, and hoped for the 
permission from Mrs. Willis. “I do hope 
she will let me go,” she said fervently. 
“Come with me, Edna, when I ask her, 
won’t you?” 

Edna was very ready to do this, and 
hunted up her grandmother. ‘ ‘ Oh, grand- 
ma,” she cried, “we’ve been invited to a 
party over at Alcinda’s. Jetty is giving 
it in honor of Reliance and me. Mother 
says I won’t take cold just going across 
the street, and you are going to let Reli- 
ance go, too, aren’t you?” 

“What’s all this?” inquired grandma. 

Edna repeated her news, but her grand- 
mother did not reply for a moment. “I 
am afraid Reliance will not be back in 


JETTY’S PARTY 


165 


time to do her evening work,” she said at 
last. 

“Oh, but — ” this was an unexpected ob- 
jection, “couldn’t she do some of it before 
she goes?” 

“She might do some, but not all, how- 
ever, we will see. Eeliance, you bustle 
around and see how smart you can be, and 
I will think what can be done.” 

“I can set the table,” said Edna 
eagerly. “Would you mind if it were 
done so much ahead of time for just this 
once?” 

“No,” replied her grandmother very 
kindly. 

“And may I skim the milk and bring 
up the butter for supper ? I can set it in 
the pantry where it will keep cool,” Ee- 
liance said. 

“You may do that,” Mrs. Willis told 
her. 

“What else will there be to do?” asked 


166 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


Edna, as the two little girls hurried from 
the room. 

“I have to turn down the beds and light 
the lamps when it gets dark.” 

‘‘That isn’t very much to do. Maybe 
Amanda wouldn’t mind seeing to those 
things for just this one time. I am going 
to ask her.” 

Reliance was only too glad to have Edna 
take this request off her hands, herself 
having a wholesome awe of Amanda, but 
to her relief Amanda was in a good humor 
and promised to look after these extra 
duties, so in good season Reliance was free 
to prepare for the party, while Edna went 
to her mother to be dressed. 

“Mother,” she said, “do you think it is 
funny to go to a party with a bound girl ? 
Is a bound girl the same as a Friendless? 
You know Margaret McDonald is our 
friend, and she used to be a Friendless.” 

“I don’t think it is funny at all. Re- 


JETTY’S PABTY 


167 


liance had no home, to be sure, till your 
grandmother took her, but she is a good, 
little girl, and I used to know her father 
when I lived here.” 

“Oh, mother, did you?” 

“Oh, yes, he was quite a nice, young 
man. I never knew his wife, but I am 
afraid he did not marry very well. Re- 
liance will probably have to work for her 
living, but that is no reason why she 
should not be treated as an equal. The 
people about here know she comes of good 
stock and that the poverty of the family 
was due more to misfortune than misbe- 
havior. I have no doubt but Reliance 
will make a fine woman, as her grand- 
mother was, and when she is grown up, 
she may marry some farmer of the neigh- 
borhood, and take the place she should.” 

This was all very interesting to Edna, 
and she sat looking at the outstretched 
feet upon which she had just drawn her 


168 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


stockings till her mother reminded her 
that time was flying. ‘ ‘ W ake up, dearie, ’ ’ 
she said. “Why, what a brown study 
you are in. Reliance will be ready long 
before you are. Hurry on with your 
shoes, and then come let me tie your 
hair.” 

At this Edna jumped and bustled 
around with such promptness that she was 
ready by the time Reliance came to the 
door neatly dressed in her bright plaid 
frock and scarlet hair ribbons. She was 
a dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl with 
rosy cheeks, and though not exactly 
pretty, had a pleasant, intelligent face. 
Edna had finally decided not to wear her 
best white frock, but had on a pretty blue 
challis, quite suited to the occasion, her 
mother told her. 

The two little girls set out in high 
feather and arrived at Alcinda’s house to 
find that several had reached there before 


JETTY’S PARTY 


169 


them. Jetty, with a huge red bow on his 
collar, barked a welcome, and Alcinda 
beamed upon them as they entered. “I 
was so afraid something would happen to 
keep you,” she said. 

Esther Ann hurried forward to talk as 
fast as she could, as was her habit, her 
words tumbling over one another in her 
effort and excitement. “Wasn’t it splen- 
did that you two found Jetty? I wish we 
had gone that way, but then maybe we 
wouldn’t have found him after all. I 
think it is real nice of Alcinda to ask Ee- 
liance when she is a bound girl, don’t 
you?” This in an aside to Edna. “I’m 
sure she is as good as anybody. How 
long are you going to stay? Here, I’ll 
show you where to take off your things; 
you needn ’t go, Alcinda. ’ ’ And she swept 
the little hostess aside while she led the 
way to an upper room. 

By this time, the latest comers had ar- 


170 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


rived, so there were about a dozen in all, 
enough for almost any game they might 
choose to play. In the first. Hide the 
Handkerchief, Jetty joined with great 
zeal, being always the first one to find the 
handkerchief. “You see he does it with 
his nose,” said Alcinda by way of expla- 
nation, a remark which made everyone 
laugh, and set the lively Esther Ann to 
sticking her nose into every corner the 
next time the handkerchief was hidden. 

“You ought to put cologne on it and 
then maybe we could find it,” she said, and 
this, too, raised a laugh as she meant it 
should, for it took very little to amuse 
them. 

At five o’clock a tray was brought in. 
Delicious cocoa and home-made cakes 
were served, followed by candies, nuts and 
raisins. While the girls were busy over 
these, Alcinda cast many glances toward 
the door and once or twice whispered to 


JETTY’S PARTY 


171 


her mother, who nodded reassuringly. 
It was evident that some matter of sur- 
prise was to follow. What it was, came 
to light a little later when Mr. Hewlett 
came in. He knew each little girl, for 
even Edna was no stranger to him, so he 
spoke to each by name. Then he stood up 
by the fireplace and said: “You have all 
heard of the medals which are given for 
the performance of brave deeds. Well, 
my little girl thinks her small dog would 
like to show his appreciation of the act 
which saved his life the other day, and so 
I have prepared two medals for the hero- 
ines of that occasion; they are not gold 
medals; in fact they are not real medals 
and of no special value except that they 
represent her, and our, gratitude to the 
little girls w^ho were the life savers.” He 
paused and looked at Alcinda who bustled 
forward and gave into his hands two tiny 
baskets. 


172 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Here, Jetty,” called Mr. Hewlett, and 
Jetty, who had been sitting in Mrs. Hew- 
lett’s lap, jumped down and danced over 
to see what was required of him. Mr. 
Hewlett stooped down and gave the dog 
one of the small baskets which he took in 
his mouth with much wagging of tail. 

“Take it. Jetty,” ordered Mr. Hewlett. 
Jetty started oft toward his little mistress, 
who quickly left her place and stood by 
Edna’s chair. Jetty dropped the bas- 
ket, not knowing exactly what was ex- 
pected of him. 

“Bring it here. Jet,” said Alcinda. 
Therefore, being sure of himself, Jetty 
frisked over to where Alcinda was stand- 
ing. “Give it to Edna,” said Alcinda, 
laying her hand on Edna’s lap. Jetty 
did as he was told and then scampered 
back to repeat the operation, this time it 
being Eeliance to whom he was directed 
to go. 


JETTY’S PARTY 


173 


“Do let’s see,” urged Esther Ann, edg- 
ing up to Edna. 

Edna uncovered the basket and saw a 
box lying there. Inside the box was a 
new quarter in which a hole had been 
drilled ; a string had been passed through 
this and to the string was attached a bow 
of blue ribbon. Reliance found the same 
in her basket, only her ribbon was red. 

“You must put them on and wear 
them,” said Alcinda, “so everyone can 
see how honorable you are.” She didn’t 
just know why her father and mother 
smiled so broadly. 

The girls proudly pinned on their 
medals and wore them home, for very 
soon came grandpa to say they must get 
ready to go. 

“I’m going to keep mine forever and 
ever, aren’t you?” whispered Reliance, as 
she started around to the kitchen door. 

“ ’Deed I am,” returned Edna. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ELDEEFLOWERS 

Edna’s account of the G, R. club, to which 
she and most of her friends belonged, had 
quite excited the ambition of the little 
girls at Overlea to have a similar one. 

“I told my father about it,” said Reba 
to Edna when they met at Jetty’s party, 
“and he thought it was a most beautiful 
club, didn’t he, Esther Ann, and he ought 
to know. He said we could have one just 
like it.” 

“Oh, we don’t want to do that,” put in 
Esther Ann scornfully. “We don’t want 
to be copy-cats. We want to have some- 
thing all our ownty downty selves, and 
not just like somebody else.” 

“That’s just what I think,” spoke up 
Emma Hunt. “Not that I don’t think 


THE ELDBRPLOWERS 


175 


yours is the best I ever heard of, and I 
don’t see -why we couldn’t have one some- 
thing like it, just a little different.” 

There aren’t so very many girls of us, 
for there are more old people than chil- 
dren in this place,” said Alcinda. 
“Would that make any difference, Edna? 
Yours is such a big club.” 

“It wasn’t big when we began; there 
were only six of us to begin with.” 

“Oh, were there? Then we could do it 
easily. Let me see how many are here; 
one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
nine, ten, eleven, and there is Mattie Bond 
who couldn’t come because she is sick; she 
would make twelve.” 

“How many are there in your club?” 
asked Reliance. 

“Oh, I don’t know just how many by 
now. Uncle Justus has a pretty big 
school and almost every girl belongs to 
it,” replied Edna. 


176 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“The real big girls?” 

“Yes, and we have one very grown-up 
lady, an honorary member; I’ll tell you 
all about Miss Eloise some day. Agnes 
Evans was our first president, and she is 
really grown up, for she is at college.” 

“I think a little club would be nicer,” 
Esther Ann spoke her mind. 

“But what shall it be and what shall we 
call it?” asked Alcinda. 

“I’ll tell you what,” proposed Edna, 
“you all ask your mothers what they 
think and I will ask my mother what she 
thinks, and we can meet somewhere to- 
morrow to talk it over.” 

“I haven’t any mother,” came a sor- 
rowful little voice from the corner. Big 
Reliance put her arm around the younger 
girl. “Never mind, Letty,” she whis- 
pered; “neither have I, but we can ask 
somebody else’s mother.” 

“I’ll lend both of you my mother,” 


THE BLDERPLOWERS 


177 


Avhispered Edna from the other side. 

So it was that the company of little girls 
went home from Jetty’s party with quite 
a new plan. Even Edna, who would 
really have no part in the club, was much 
interested, and could scarcely wait to talk 
it over with her mother at bedtime. She 
began as soon as thej^ were upstairs to- 
gether. “Mother,” she said, “do you 
think grandma would let Reliance come 
up while I am getting ready for bed?” 

“Why, dearie, I don’t know, I am sure. 
Why do you want her on this special 
night?” 

“Because there is something we girls 
are going to talk over with our mothers, 
and Reliance hasn’t any mother, neither 
has Letty Osgood, and I told them I 
would lend them my mother. You don’t 
mind, do you, mother dear?” Edna put 
her two hands on each of her mother’s 
cheeks and looked at her very earnestly. 


178 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Why, my darling, of course not,” re- 
turned Mrs. Conway, kissing her. “You 
know mother is always very glad to 
mother any little girl who may need her. 
What is this wonderful something you are 
to talk over?” 

“I think we’d better not begin until we 
know about Reliance though. I wish I 
had asked grandma before I came up, but 
I wanted to speak to you first, mother 
dear.” 

“Then I will go down and ask her. 
Where is Reliance?” 

“I suppose she is in the kitchen with 
Amanda; I don’t believe she has gone to 
bed yet.” 

Her mother left the room, and while 
Edna unlaced her shoes, she listened for 
her return. In a few minutes she heard 
voices on the stair and realized that Re- 
liance was coming up. “We haven’t said 
a word about it yet,” she nodded to Re- 


THE ELDERFLOWERS 


179 


liance who came in behind Mrs. Conway. 
“You begin, Reliance.” 

“No, you,” said Reliance drawing back 
shyly. 

“Well,” began Edna, addressing her 
mother, “you see the girls want to get up 
a club something like ours, only not just 
like it, and they don’t want the same name 
either. There aren’t such a lot of girls 
here, because there are so many more old 
people than young ones in this village, 
and so you see — what kind of club would 
be nice, mother?” 

“Why, dearie, I shall have to think it 
over. ’ ’ 

“We ought to decide very soon,” said 
Edna, “for I should hate to go away with- 
out knowing. Could Reliance bring 
Letty Osgood home with her from school 
to-morrow? I lent you to her, too, and 
maybe by that time you might think of 
something?” 


180 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“We’ll ask grandma about it, dear, 
tboiigli I am sure she will not object. Is 
that all now!” 

Edna thought it was, and now that she 
was ready to pop into bed, Reliance left 
her with a happy “Good-night!” It was 
like sunshine in the house to have such a 
dear little girl as Edna, she thought as she 
went downstairs, and though Amanda 
reprimanded her sharply for not being in 
bed, she did not answer back, for, in fact, 
she scarcely heard her, so busy was she 
with pleasant thoughts, and so excited 
over the idea of the club. 

The next morning, Edna and her mother 
did a great deal of talking about the new 
club, so much, in fact, that when it was 
time for Reliance to return from school, 
Edna was on the lookout for her, feeling 
that she had so much to tell that there 
should be no time wasted. “Here they 
come, mother,” she sang out. “Reliance 


THE ELDERPLOWERS 


181 


and Letty. May I bring them right up 
here?” 

“To he sure you may.” 

“I’m going down to tell Amanda to 
’sense Eeliance for just a few minutes.” 
She flew downstairs to the kitchen. 
“’Manda,” she said, “mother is going to 
talk over something very important with 
Eeliance and Letty, so will you please not 
call her for a few minutes ? I ’ll help her 
set the table.” 

“It seems to me you are making too 
much of Eeliance,” returned Amanda; 
“she can’t be brought up to look for noth- 
ing but ease and pleasure; she will have 
to work for her living.” 

“But this isn’t anything that is going to 
keep her from doing that,” explained 
Edna, “and grandma said she could have 
a little time to play while I am here, 
specially when I help her.” 

“Oh, well, go ’long,” returned Amanda, 


182 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


‘‘only don’t keep her too long; there’s 
more to do than set the table.” 

Though the permission was accorded 
rather ungraciously, Edna was satisfied, 
and ran to welcome Letty who was just 
coming in the gate. “I am so glad you 
could come,” she said. “You are going 
to stay to dinner, aren’t you? Did you 
ask your father?” 

“Yes, and he said I might.” 

“Good! Then come right upstairs and 
take off your things. Oh, girls, mother 
has a lovely plan for a club, and the 
dearest name you ever heard. You can 
come. Reliance, grandma said so, and so 
did Amanda. I’m going to help set the 
table.” 

She led the way up to where her mother 
was sitting, her face bright with eagerness 
as she brought Letty forward. “This is 
Letty Osgood, mother. Dr. Osgood’s 
daughter, you know.” 


THE ELDERPLOWERS 


183 


Mrs. Conway drew the shy little girl 
nearer. ‘Mt is very nice to see Letitia 
Osgood’s daughter,” she said. “1 knew 
your dear mother very well, and I am glad 
to have my little girl making friends with 
her little girl.” 

“Now, mother,” began Edna, breaking 
in, “won’t you please not talk much at 
first about anything but the club, because 
Eeliance has only a few minutes to stay.” 

Her mother smiled and nodded to Letty. 
“Very w^ell, Letty,” she said, “we’ll have 
a nice, little, cozy chat all to ourselves 
after awhile when this impatient young 
person has had her subject discussed. I 
was thinking, girlies, that as long as there 
are so many elderly and old people in the 
t illage, some of whom are poor and some 
who are partial invalids, that it would be 
a very sweet thing if you little girls could 
form yourseh-es into a club which would 
help to make their lives a little less sad. 


184 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


It would mean a great deal to old Miss Be- 
linda Myers, for instance, if one of you 
would drop in once in a wMle Avith a 
flower, or any little thing for her. She is 
so crippled up with rheumatism that she 
can’t leave her room, and must sit there 
by the Avindow all day long. She is fond 
of children, too. Of course she has plenty 
of this world’s goods, and her old friends 
do not neglect her, yet I am sure that you 
could give something to her by your mere 
presence which none of the older persons 
could. Then there is poor old Nathan 
Keener,” 

“Oh, but he is such an old cross patch,” 
interrupted Edna. 

“So he is, but he has had enough to 
make him so. I wonder if any one of us 
Avould be very amiable if she were poverty- 
stricken, half sick all the time, had lost 
all her friends and had been cheated out 
of the little Avhich AA^ould make old age 


THE ELDERPLOWERS 


185 


comfortable? It is very easy to be smil- 
ing and agreeable when everything goes 
right, but when things go wrong, it isn’t 
half so easy, especially when one hasn’t a 
good disposition to begin with.” 

“But what in the world could we do for 
him?” asked Eeliance. “If we stopped 
to speak to him, very likely he would get 
after us with a stick,” 

“Did any of the boys and girls ever try 
the experiment of speaking to him pleas- 
antly? I am quite sure the boys do their 
best to annoy him in any way they can 
contrive, and even some of the girls tease 
him slyly and call him names, I am told.” 

“Yes, they do,” replied Reliance, 
doubtfully, who herself was not entirely 
innocent in this regard. 

“Suppose you were to try the experi- 
ment of beginning by smiling when you go 
by and saying, pleasantly, ‘Good-morning, 
Mr. Keener ? ’ Then next day, even if he 


186 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


chased you away the first time, you might 
say, ‘Isn’t this a lovely morning, Mr. 
Keener?’ and you could always make a 
point of saying something pleasant to him 
when you go by. Then some day when it 
is raining or too cold for him to sit in his 
doorway — ” 

“Like a great big, ugly spider,” re- 
marked Letty. 

Mrs. Conway paid no heed to the com- 
ment, “you could leave a big apple on the 
doorsill for him, and so on, till in time I 
will venture to say he will learn that you 
wish him well and are trying to be friends. 
You must keep in your mind all the time 
that he is a poor, neglected, friendless, un- 
happy old man and that if you can suc- 
ceed in bringing even a little sunshine into 
his life, you will be doing a great deal.” 

The girls were very sober for a few min- 
utes, then Reliance said thoughtfully, “I 
believe I should like to try^t anyway.” 


THE ELDERPLOWERS 


187 


“Of course,” Mrs. Conway went on, 
“the girls may have found, other and bet- 
ter ideas for a club, and a better name 
than I can suggest, but it seemed to me 
that this might be made something like the 
Gr. R., yet would not be exactly the same, 
and it could have quite a different name.” 

“Oh, mother,” exclaimed Edna, “do tell 
the name you thought of, I think it is so 
lovely.” 

“I thought you might caU yourselves 
‘The Elderflowers, ’ because your good 
deeds would be directed toward your 
elders, and you would be cheerful, little 
flowers to bring sweetness to sad lives.” 

“I think it is the most beautiful idea,” 
exclaimed Letty earnestly, “and I shall be 
dreadfully disappointed if the girls want 
something different. I begin to feel sorry 
for old Nathan Keener already.” 

“That is an excellent beginning,” said 
Mrs. Conway, with a smile. 


188 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


Here came a call from Amanda, so Re- 
liance and Edna scampered off leaving 
Letty to be entertained by Mrs. Conway. 

When Reliance came home from school 
that afternoon, she brought the informa- 
tion that the girls were going to meet 
in Hewlett’s old blacksmith shop that 
afternoon, and that Edna was to be sure 
to come. To her own great disappoint- 
ment, she could not go herself, for Amanda 
declared that she could not get along with- 
out her, and that all this gallivanting 
about was a mistake, and that if Mrs. Wil- 
lis was going to have a bound girl there for 
her to bother with and get no good of, she 
guessed it was time for younger folks to 
take her place. A girl that spent half 
her time at school and the other half sky- 
larking wouldn’t amount to much anyway 
was her opinion. 

So because the old servant had to be 
X)acified and because it was a day on which 


THE BLDERPLOWERS 


189 


Reliance could really be ill spared, she did 
not attend the meeting. 

“I am sorry, dear,” said Mrs, Willis, 
when Edna begged to have the decree al- 
tered, “blit I am afraid we really cannot 
spare Reliance this afternoon. You 
know she has had a lot of time for play 
this past week; we have been very indul- 
gent to her because of your being here.” 
Edna saw that this was final and went to 
her mother with rather a grave face. 

“Mother,” she said, “isn’t it too bad 
that Reliance can’t go? She says she 
wouldn’t mind so much if it were not for 
the voting, but you see if she isn’t there, 
she will lose her vote, and we do so want 
the Elderflower plan to be the one.” 

“Why couldn’t you be her proxy?” 
said Mrs. Conway. 

“Proxy? What is proxy, mother?” 

“It is some one appointed in the place 
of another to do what would otherwise be 


190 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


done by the first person; for instance, in 
this case you could be proxy for Reliance 
and vote for her. She could sign a paper 
which would make it very plain.” 

“Oh, mother, will you write the paper 
and let me take it to her to sign?” 

‘ ‘ Certainly I will. ’ ’ She drew the writ- 
ing materials to her and wrote a few lines. 
“There,” she said, “I think that will do.” 

“Please read it, mother.” 

Mrs. Conway read: “I hereby appoint 
Edna Conway to be my proxy and to vote 
upon any question which may come up be- 
fore this meeting. 

“Signed—” 

“That sounds very important,” said 
Edna, clasping her hands. “Show me 
where she is to sign her name, mother. I 
know she will be perfectly delighted that 
I can speak for her.” 

Reliance truly was pleased, the more 
that the sending of such an important 


THE ELDERPLOWEES 


191 


legal document gave her a certain position 
with the others. She signed her name 
with a flourish, and Edna, armed with the 
indisputable right to take her place, 
started off for Hewlett’s old blacksmith 
shop. This sat back some distance from 
the store, and was used as a storage place 
for empty boxes and such things. 

Edna found most of the company gath- 
ered when she arrived. They were all 
chattering away with little idea of what 
must be done first. “Here comes Edna 
Conway,” cried Esther Ann; “she can tell 
us just what to do. Come along, Edna. 
What was the first thing you did when you 
got up a club?” 

“We had a president and a secretary 
the first thing; the president was called 
pro tern.; she wasn’t the real president till 
we elected her.” 

“Then you be pro tern., for you know 
just what to do.” 


192 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Edna shrank from 
such a public office, and her little round 
face took on a look of real distress at such 
a prospect. 

“Somebody’s got to be then,” said Es- 
ther Ann. “I will.” 

“I will. I will,” came from one and 
another of the girls, too eager for promi- 
nence to care about what was expected of 
them. 

“We can’t all be,” remarked Milly 
Somers. “We’re wasting time and we 
ought to have had this all settled at first. 
I wish there were some older person to get 
us started.” 

“Everyone isn’t here yet,” spoke 
up Alcinda. “Isn’t Reliance coming, 
Edna?” 

“No, she can’t. She has too much to do 
this afternoon, but I am her proxy. I’ve 
got a paper that says so.” 

The girls giggled. “Isn’t she cute?” 


THE ELDERFLOWERS 


193 


whispered Esther Ann. “Let’s see the 
paper, Edna.” 

Edna solemnly drew it from the small 
bag she carried, and handed it to Esther 
Ann . 

“Read it, Esther Ann, read it,” clam- 
ored the girls. And Esther Ann read it 
aloud. 

“How in the world did you know about 
such a thing,” said Milly Somers. 

“Oh, I didn’t think of it,” she an- 
swered; “it was my mother.” 

“She must be awfully smart,” said Es- 
ther Ann admiringly. “I wish she were 
here to tell us just what to do, if you won’t 
do it.” 

“Maybe she would come for just a little 
while,” said Edna, feeling assured that if 
her mother were there to tell of her own 
ideas about the club that there would be 
no doubt of its being “The Elderflowers. ” 
“Suppose I go and ask her,” she added. 


194 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“All right,” agreed the girls. “Tell 
her if she will stay just long enough to 
tell us how to get started, it is all we ask.” 

Edna rushed hack to the house and up- 
stairs, where she breathlessly explained 
her errand. “You will go, won’t you, 
mother, just for a few minutes,” she 
begged. “You won’t have to change your 
dress, or even put a hat on if you don’t 
want to. W e need you so very, very much. 
Nobody loiows what to do, and they all 
talk at once, and giggle and say silly 
things. It ought to be real serious, 
oughtn’t it?” 

“Not too serious, I should say,” re- 
turned her mother. “Very well, dear, I 
will come.” She threw on a long coat 
and followed the little girl across the 
street to where the prospective club mem- 
bers waited expectantly. 

It did not take long to set the ball in 
motion, and in less than half an hour Es- 


THE ELDERPLOWERS 


195 


tiler Ann was made president pro tern., 
Milly Somers was appointed secretary, 
and the business of choosing came up. 
There were not very many original ideas 
offered. Few of the girls had any. Mrs. 
Conway listened to them all, and at last 
explained her own plan so clearly and 
with such earnestness that it was a matter 
of only a few minutes before it was de- 
cided that “The Elderflower Club” should 
start its existence at once. 

To cap the climax, Edna was elected an 
honorary member, “for,” said the girls, 
“if it hadn’t been for you we should never 
have had a club at all. And when you 
come to your grandfather’s, you will al- 
ways know that you must attend the club 
meetings.” 

Therefore, it was a very happy little girl 
who went back to report to Reliance the 
happenings of this first meeting of the 
club. 


CHAPTEE X 


WHAT BEN DID 

The members of the Elderflower Club 
were so eager to begin business that they 
could scarcely wait till the next day. The 
more retiring ones, like Alcinda, con- 
tented themselves with beginning their 
ministrations to relatives or those they 
knew, but it was to adventurous spirits 
like Esther Ann and Reliance that a dif- 
ficult case such as old Xathan Keener ap- 
pealed. Reliance, following out Mrs. 
Conway’s advice, gave a cheery “Good- 
morning, Mr. Keener,” as she went by his 
dilapidated house on her way to school. 
She reported this performance to the 
other girls at recess. 

“Oh, Reliance, you didn’t dare, did 


WHAT BEN DID 


197 


you % ’ ’ exclaimed Alcinda. ‘ ‘ What did he 
do? Did he run after you?” 

“No, he only frowned and grunted.” 

“Did you walk very fast when you went 
by?” asked little Letty Osgood, being 
very sure that she would not have loitered 
upon such an occasion. 

“No, not so very. I just walked as I 
always do.” 

“Then I think you were very brave,” 
continued Letty. 

“Pooh!” exclaimed Esther Ann, “that 
wasn’t anything to do. Just wait till you 
see what I am going to do.” 

“What, Esther Ann? What?” clam- 
ored the girls. 

“Wait till this afternoon and you will 
see,” was all Esther Ann would say to 
satisfy their curiosity. 

This being Friday and Edna’s last day 
at her grandmother’s, her friends begged 
that she be allowed to go with them to 


198 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


school that afternoon. “We don’t have 
real lessons,” Reliance told her, “for Miss 
Fay reads to us, and we have a sewing les- 
son.” 

“I’d love to go,” said Edna, “and I 
could take the work hag I am making for 
Celia. I could finish it, I think. May I 
go?” 

“I haven’t the slightest objection,” 
Mrs. Conway assured her. So she set 
off with Reliance, and felt quite at home 
since she knew all the girls of her own 
age, and older, and, as she said, “the lit- 
tler ones don ’t count. ’ ’ 

Everything moved along pleasantly dur- 
ing the school session, and the girls 
started along in a bunch toward home. 
“You just come with me, Edna,” said 
Esther Ann. “You see you are a member 
of the club, too, and this will be your only 
chance to do a deed. The others can fol- 
low along if they want. I’ll tell you what 


WHAT BEN DID 


199 


I am going to do and you can take part, if 
you like.” 

The others were both timid and curious, 
and were quite content to obey Esther 
Ann’s suggestion to “follow on.” Edna, 
it may be said, was not inspired with that 
wholesome dread of old Nathan which 
possessed the others, for she had not been 
brought up under the shadow of his ogre- 
like actions, and she felt that this was an 
opportunity which she could not neglect. 
She trotted along valiantly by Esther 
Ann’s side, the others keeping a safe dis- 
tance behind. 

“Tell me what you are going to do,” 
said Edna to her companion, as they pro- 
ceeded on their way. 

For answer, Esther Ann dived down 
into her school-bag and produced first one 
then another big, red apple. “I am going 
to give these to Nathan. You can give 
one. I mean just to walk right up to him 


200 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


and say, ‘Won’t you have an apple, Mr. 
Keener?’” 

“Suppose he isn’t there,” returned 
Edna. 

“Oh, he’ll be there; he always is when 
it is a bright day like this. He sits in an 
old chair on that broad doorstep in front 
of his house, and leans on a big, thick 
stick he always carries.” 

“Who cooks for him?” 

“Oh, he cooks for himself, when he has 
anything to cook. He has a little garden, 
but it doesn’t amount to much. He has 
no apple trees except an old one that is 
nearly dead and never has but a few lit- 
tle, measly, knerly apples on it; that’s 
why I thought he’d like these.” 

Their walk was carrying them nearer 
and nearer the old man’s door. “There 
he is now,” whispered Esther Ann. “I’ll 
go first and you come right up behind me. 
Here, take your apple.” She thrust the 


WHAT BEN DID 


201 


fruit into Edna’s hand and hastened her 
own pace a little. Edna’s heart began to 
beat fast, for surely Nathan Keener was 
anything but an attractive figure as he sat 
there glowering and muttering, his gaunt 
hands resting on his knotted stick, and his 
grizzly old face wearing a wrathful look. 

True to her guns, Esther Ann dashed 
forward and held out her apple saying 
in a shrill, excited voice, “Won’t you 
have — ” 

But she got no further, for with a snarl 
the old man reached out one long, bony 
arm and grabbed her by the shoulder, 
raising his stick threateningly, “I’ll larn 
ye, ye little varmint,” he began. 

Esther screamed. Edna, paralyzed with 
fright, looked on with affrighted eyes, but 
presently found voice to quaver out, 
“Please don’t hurt her! Oh, please 
don’t!” 

The other girls a little distance off stood 


202 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


liuddled together like a flock of sheep. 
No one was brave enough to venture 
within reach of that terrible stick, but 
just then along came a crowd of boys from 
school. The foremost took in the situa- 
tion in a glance, and in another instant 
was on the platform by Esther’s side. 

“Here, you old mut, what are you do- 
ing to my sister?” he cried, at the same 
time trying to wrest the stick from the old 
man’s grasp. 

But Nathan had too long wielded the 
stick with effect to lose it so readily. 
Loosing his hold upon Esther, he swiftly 
shifted his weapon to his other hand and 
brought down a blow on the boy’s back. 

By this time the other boys had come 
up ; there were cries, threats, screams from 
the girls, shouts from the boys. All was 
in a dreadful hub-bub when along the 
road approached a young man who stood 
for a moment and then dashed to the 


WHAT BEN DID 


203 


scene of battle. “Here, boys, here,” he 
cried, “what are you doing to that old 
man?” 

“He was going to beat my sister,” 
spoke up the one who had first hurried to 
the front. 

“You old scalawag,” cried the young 
man, “what were you up to? If you are 
yearning to hit somebody, take a fellow 
your o^vn size.” He wrenched the stick 
from the man’s grasp and threw it away. 
“Now,” he said, “have it out if you will. 
I’m ready.” He squared off, but the old 
man had neither strength nor desire to 
grapple with such a masterful opponent, 
and he slunk back against his door. 

“I guess if your life was pestered by a 
set of young wretches like these, you’d 
threaten, too,” he said surlily. “I guess 
I ’m getting too smart for their tricks, and 
know enough not to take anything they 
offer me. I don’t have to have more’n 


204 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


one apple full of red pepper set on my 
doorsill. I guess I know who hides my 
loaf of bread, and puts salt in my can of 
milk. I guess I cut my eyeteeth a good 
many years ago, and can catch ’em at their 
tricks.” 

The young man looked around at the 
group of boys, now rather shamefaced, at 
the group of girls now gathered around 
Esther Ann. On the edge of this latter 
group he recognized a little round face 
now tear-stained and affrighted. In a 
moment he was by Edna’s side. “ Well, 
I’ll be everlastingly switched,” he ex- 
claimed, “Edna, my child, what are you 
doing in this mix-up?” 

“Oh, Ben,” returned Edna, “it was all 
a mistake. Nobody meant to play a 
trick.” 

“Come over here and tell me all about 
it,” said Ben, leading her aside. Edna 
poured forth her tale of woe, during the 


WHAT BEN DID 


205 


recital of which more than once Ben’s 
mouth twitched and his eyes grew merry. 
“It doesn’t do to be too zealous, does it?” 
he said at the close of the story. “Here, 
old fellow, come hack here.” He made a 
dash at old Nathan who was now retreat- 
ing within his own doorway. Ben pulled 
him back by his coat-tails. “We aren’t 
through with this yet,” he went on as the 
man turned upon him with a few smoth- 
ered words. “That isn’t a pretty way to 
talk. You have something of a case, I ad- 
mit, but you happened to overreach your- 
self this time. No, you’re not going in 
yet. A little more fresh air won’t hurt 
you. Sit down there and he good and I 
will tell you a pretty little story.” He 
pushed the old man gently into his chair 
and stood guard over him. “No, you 
don’t need your stick yet; you might get 
careless with it. I’ll just lean it up 
against the house. Now, then, those little 


206 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


girls hadn’t a notion of playing you a 
trick ; they were trying to do you a kind- 
ness. They knew you were lonely and 
hadn’t much chance to run around with 
the hoys, or run an automobile, so they 
thought they would chirk you up a little 
by presenting you with a large, sweet, 
juicy, red apple. Their little hearts were 
throbbing with good-will ; they had an un- 
conquerable desire to bring a smile to your 
lips and a gleam of happiness to your eye. 
To prove this to you, I will now dissect 
this large, sweet, juicy, red apple. I will 
eat half and you will eat the other. If it 
isn’t a good apple. I’ll eat my hat.” He 
carefully cut the apple, which Edna had 
given him, pared and quartered it, stuck 
a piece on the end of his knife and offered 
it to the old man, wdio pushed it away con- 
temptuously. “Let me insist,” Ben went 
on. “We are not playing Adam and Eve 
in the garden of Eden. There is no ser- 


WHAT BEN DID 


207 


pent in sight, not so much as a worm, and 
if you find so much as a gram of red pep- 
per I’ll acknowledge myself beaten.” 

The old man muttered incoherently as 
Ben finished his harangue, but made no 
motion to take the apple. “You don’t 
know what you are missing,” Ben went 
on. “Now just for the sake of old times, 
let’s try to be jolly and remember when we 
were boys. Why, many a time you and 
I have raced down this shaded street, 
shouting with mirth, have climbed the 
wall by the orchard and stuffed our pock- 
ets with apples like these. You never 
could take a joke, as I remember, but still 
you weren’t a bad fellow, and I’ll bet you 
were a wonder at baseball. I shouldn’t 
wonder if your batting didn’t beat the 
town. The way you swing around that 
stick of yours shows there is ‘life in the 
old land yet.’ ” 

The old man’s face had relaxed a little 


208 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


and he no longer muttered under his 
breath. Ben winked at the hoys who had 
di’awn nearer and were enjoying the situ- 
ation to the utmost. “Now, just for old 
times’ sake,” continued Ben, “just tell me 
what was the last real, good, old-fashioned 
trick you ever played?” The old man 
cast a half-suspicious look at the smiling 
young man by his side, but made no reply. 
“Too bad you forget,” said Ben, “but I’ll 
bet an apple to an oyster you don’t forget 
that last game you played.” 

“Who told you about it?” snapped out 
the old man. 

“Never mind. Do you suppose such a 
game as that will ever be forgotten ? I’m 
going to tell these boys all about it some 
day, see if I don’t.” 

Nathan wheeled around in his chair and 
glanced over the row of young faces before 
him. Then he leaned back in his chair 
and sighed. 


WHAT BEN DID 


209 


“I’ll bet you wouldn’t mind a good 
game now, but you’ve no use for these boys 
and they haven’t much for you. When’s 
the next game, boys'?” He turned to the 
row of faces. 

“We’ve stopped playing baseball for 
this year,” came in a chorus. 

“Don’t have football up here?” 

“Ho, we haven’t any team.” 

“Too bad. I might join you on that. 
Well, Mr. Keener, some of these days you 
and I will go to a game together; we’ll get 
that fixed up. Which of you boys was it 
who so doughtily sped to the rescue of the 
young maiden?” 

“Jim Taber; it was his sister the old 
man was after,” piped up the boys. 

“All right, and mighty little respect I 
would have had for him, if he hadn’t 
pitched in the way he did. Step up here, 
Jim.” 

Jim came forward, a little awkwardly, 


210 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


tlie other boys snickering. ‘^Mr. Keener, 
this is Jim Taber. I want you to look at 
him and tell me if, when you were a boy 
of his size, you had seen anyone threaten- 
ing your sister with a stick, you wouldn’t 
have pitched in and fought for her for all 
you were worth. You weren’t any slouch 
in those days when it came to fighting, I 
knovr. That’s all, Jim, no apologies neces- 
sary. Kow, Mr. Keener, there is just one 
thing more. I don’t believe these chil- 
dren are really had, only mischievous as 
you used to be when you were a youngster. 
The girls, I know, are all ready to be 
friends, bless their dear little hearts. As 
for the boys. I’ll venture to say we can 
patch up a treaty of peace with them. If 
you will promise to he a little less free 
with that stick and not get a grouch on you 
every time a boy looks your way, they will 
promise to play no more tricks. If they 
don’t promise. I’ll give every mother’s son 


WHAT BEN DID 


211 


of them Hail Columbia when I come this 
way again,” and by his looks, the boys 
knew' he meant what he said. They were 
conscious that Ben was standing up for 
old Nathan, and yet that he meant to be 
perfectly fair to them. Ben looked up 
and dowm the line. “Well?” he said. 

The boys looked at one another. “If 
he’ll promise, we wall,” spoke up Jim 
Taber. 

“It’s a go,” said Ben. “Now, Mr. 
Keener, it’s up to you.” 

Old Nathan gave a grunt which might 
have meant anything, but Ben chose to 
interpret it his own way. “I think that 
is meant for assent,” he said. “The gen- 
tleman seems to be speaking a foreign 
language to-day, Choctaw, I should say, or 
maybe Hindostanee. However, it is all 
right. Now, Mr. Keener, allow me, sir.” 
He opened the door with a flourish and 
handed the old man his stick. Without a 


212 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


word, Nathan took the stick and went in, 
Ben bowing and scraping and saying, 
“Thank you for a very good time,” then 
receiving no reply, not even a grunt, he 
added, “Not at all, the pleasure is entirely 
mine.” The door closed and that was the 
end of it. 

Edna came running up. “Oh, Ben,” 
she said, “how glad I am to see you. Oh, 
wasn ’t it dreadful ? How did you happen 
to come along?” 

“Why, Pinky Blooms, I was on my way 
to grandpa’s, thought I would come to 
take mother back to-morrow, and, as it 
was a fine afternoon, I concluded to walk 
up from the station. Happened by just 
in the nick of time, didn’t I? Funny old 
curmudgeon, isn’t Nathan?” 

“Oh, he is terrible,” responded Edna, 
with a remembrance of the uplifted stick. 
“Are you going home with me?” 

“No; you trot along with the rest of the 


WHAT BEN DID 


213 


brood ; I am going to stay here a few min- 
utes and have a chat with the boys; I’ll be 
along directly.” 

So Edna left him, the boys crowding 
around and asking all sorts of questions. 
Ben was no new figure in the town, and 
most of them knew him at least by sight. 
Just what he said to the boys, Edna never 
knew, but it is a matter of comment that 
from that day on there were no more 
tricks played on old Nathan Keener, and 
though the big stick was not so much in 
evidence, it was a long time before any of 
the Elderflowers made any headway in 
winning even so much as a grunt from 
him. It was a great setback to the en- 
thusiasm of the girls, but as Reliance told 
Esther Ann, she should not have tried so 
venturesome a thing at the very outset. 
“Mrs. Conway says we should have 
worked up to it gradually. It’s just like 
training a wild animal, you have to win 


214 A DEAE LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


its confidence first.” But Esther Ann de- 
clared she wanted no more of Nathan 
Keener, and Eeliance was perfectly wel- 
come to try any methods she liked so long 
as Esther Ann was not asked to share in 
the effort. It was a very exciting after- 
noon, taking it all in all, and was the 
means of bringing some ridicule and some 
censure upon the little club. One or two 
of the girls resigned, saying their mothers 
did not approve of such proceedings. All 
this, however, did not happen during 
Edna’s Thanksgiving visit, hut she heard 
of it afterward, and of further matters 
concerning the Elderflowers. 


CHAPTER XI 


FAREWELLS 

Edna had not finished telling her mother 
about the afternoon’s adventures when 
Ben came in. The family had gathered 
in the living-room, Edna sitting on her 
grandfather’s knee, and the others ranged 
around the big fireplace. “There comes 
Ben now,” Edna sang out, catching sight 
of her cousin’s figure, and running to meet 
him. 

“Halloo, young man,” was grandpa’s 
greeting. “I hear you have been having 
a set-to with Nathan Keener. It isn’t the 
first time that he has had a fisticuffs with 
a member of this family. He and I used 
to be continually at it when we were boys 
together.” 

“Oh, but isn’t he much older than you, 


216 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


grandpa?” said Edna, in surprise. “He 
looks like a very, very old man.” 

“And I don’t? That’s a nice compli- 
ment, missy. No, he and I are about of 
an age, and went to school together in the 
little, old, red schoolhouse that was burned 
down some years ago. It is ill health and 
trouble that makes him look so old, I sup- 
pose. Poor old chap, he has lost most of 
the friends who would have stood by 
him, for he has taken such an attitude it is 
impossible to be on good terms with him.” 

“Ben thinks he used to play baseball,” 
spoke up Edna. “Did they play it so 
many, many years ago?” 

Her grandfather laughed. “They cer- 
tainly did, and he was tremendous at it. 
Let me see, forty, fifty years ago isn’t so 
long, and I can well remember the time 
the Overlea boys beat the Boxtown boys, 
and it was all because of Nat Keener’s 
good playing. The Boxtown fellows 


FAREWELLS 


217 


thought all they had to do was to walk in 
and win, but we gave them a big surprise 
that day. I remember how we cheered 
and, after the game was over, carried Nat 
around the village on our shoulders.” 

Ben smiled and nodded as if this event 
came within his recollection, too. Edna 
looked at him in surprise. “Why, Ben,” 
she said, “you weren’t there.” 

Ben laughed. “No, but I heard about 
it all years ago, and it came to my mind to- 
day when I was having it out with Nathan. 
I’ll venture to say he is thinking more of 
those old times, at this very minute, than 
he is of his troubles.” 

“Poor old Nat,” grandpa shook his 
head. “He was as high-spirited a young 
chap as ever lived, but uncontrolled and 
always fighting against the pricks. It 
must be pretty hard for him; pretty hard. 
He has growm so morose and snappish that 
no one takes the trouble to do more than 


218 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


nod to him nowadays. He wasn’t a bad 
sort, too free and open-handed, too fond 
of pleasure, maybe.” 

“He doesn’t have much chance to in- 
dulge himself there in these days,” re- 
marked grandma. 

“False friends, a worthless wife and a 
bad son have about finished up what he 
had. With good money after bad all the 
time there is nothing left but that little 
tumbledoAvn house he lives in.” 

“What does he live on?” asked Ben. 

“Ask your grandpa,” answered Mrs. 
Willis smiling across at her husband. 

“Oh, pshaw!” exclaimed Mr. Willis, 
“nobody counts a load of wood or a bag 
of potatoes once in a while. I must stop 
and see if I can’t draw him out of his shell 
some of these days.” 

“Talk to him about when you were boys, 
grandpa,” said Ben; “that will fetch 
him.” 


FAEEWELLS 


219 


Just here, Eeliance came to the door to 
say that Ira would like to speak to Mr. 
Willis, and Mrs. Barker appropriated 
Ben, so Edna was left to her grandmother 
and her mother. 

“So we are going to lose our little girl 
to-morrow,” grandma began. 

“You w'on’t be left without any little 
girl,” replied Edna cheerfully, “for you 
will have Eeliance.” 

“But that isn’t the same thing as hav- 
ing my own little granddaughter,” re- 
sponded Mrs. Willis. 

“No,” returned Edna. “When are we 
coming here again, mother*?” 

“Why, my dear, I don’t know. We 
have made grandma a good, long visit this 
time.” 

“It isn’t what I call a long visit,” 
grandma observed. “When I was a child 
I spent months at a time at my grand- 
parents.” 


220 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“I spent months at Uncle Justus’, but 
then I was there at school,” remarked 
Edna. “I don’t see why I couldn’t come 
here on holidays, mother.” 

“You can do that sometimes, sm*ely. 
We have promised you to Uncle Bert for 
the Christmas holidays, but maybe you 
could come at Easter, if grandma would 
like to have you.” 

“Grandma would like very much to 
have her,” said that lady. 

“Even if I came without mother?” 
questioned Edna. 

“Even if you came by your own little 
self. We shall claim her for the Easter 
holidays, daughter, and you must let noth- 
ing prevent her coming. If it is not con- 
venient for any of the rest of you to come, 
just put her on the train upon which 
Marcus Brown is conductor and he will 
see that she gets off safely at Mayville.” 

Edna looked a little doubtful at the idea 


FAKEWELLS 


221 


of making the journey by herself, but she 
did not say anything. 

“However,” grandma went on, “I don’t 
see why Celia couldn’t come with her, or 
perhaps Ben could.” 

“Well, we shall see,” responded Mrs. 
Conway. “We’ll try to get her here in 
some way.” 

“Then we shall consider that quite set- 
tled,” said grandma with a satisfied air. 

“I’ve had an awfully good time,” said 
Edna thoughtfully. 

“Even though you have been sick abed, 
and have had all sorts of unpleasant ad- 
ventures?” said grandma with a smile. 

“I wasn’t so very sick,” returned Edna, 
“and I wouldn’t have minded that except 
for the mustard bath.” 

Her grandmother laughed. “We’ll 
hope that you won’t need one the next 
time.” 

“I didn’t mind the adventures very 


222 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


mucli, either, and now that they are all 
over, I am awfully glad that I will have 
something so interesting to tell the girls 
at home. I think a great deal has hap- 
pened in the time I have been here, don’t 
you, grandma?” 

“From the standpoint of a little girl I 
suppose that is true, though it hasn’t 
seemed such a very exciting time to the 
rest of us. This is a quiet old village and 
we jog along pretty much the same way 
year in and year out, without very many 
changes.” 

“I think it is just lovely here,” replied 
Edna, “and I like all the girls, too. I 
shall he glad to see them again. I sort of 
remembered some of them, but you know 
I haven’t been here before for ever so 
many years, and I had forgotten lots of 
things, even about the house and the 
place.” 

“Then don’t stay away so long as to for- 


FAREWELLS 


223 


get anything again,” her grandmother 
charged her. 

“I’m forgetting that this is the last 
chance I will have to help Reliance set the 
table,” said Edna, jumping up. 

She found Reliance had already begun 
this task and that Amanda was making 
some specially good tea-cakes in honor of 
this last evening. She was in a good 
humor and did not object, as she did some- 
times, to Edna’s being in the kitchen 
while supper was being prepared. “Just 
think,” remarked Edna, as she leaned her 
elbows on the table to watch ximanda, 
“where I shall be to-morrow evening at 
this time.” 

“And are you sorry?” asked Amanda. 

“No, not exactly. I am glad and sorry 
both. I should love to stay and yet I want 
to see them all at home.” 

“That’s prefectly natural,” Amanda 
returned, pricking the tea-cakes daintily. 


224 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


“What do you have to do that for?” 
asked the little girl. 

“To keep ’em from blistering,” Aman- 
da told her. “There, open the oven door, 
Reliance, and then bring me that bowl of 
cottage cheese from the pantry. I didn’t 
know as it would be warm enough to allow 
of us haying any more this week, but you 
see it was.” 

“I just love cottage cheese,” Edna made 
the remark, as she watched Amanda pour 
in the yellow cream and stir it into the 
cheese. “I wish we kept a cow, so we 
could have all the milky things you have 
here.” 

“Ain’t your place big enough for one?” 
inquired Amanda, in rather a surprised 
tone. 

“No; it isn’t just country, you know. 
Mrs. McDonald has a big place, and the 
Evanses have a nice garden and a grove of 
trees. We have some trees and some gar- 


FAREWELLS 


225 


den, and we have a stable, but we haven't 
any pasture for cows.” 

“You might pasture her out,” Amanda 
suggested, scraping the contents of the 
howl into a glass dish. “Here, Eeliance, 
take that in and set it on the table, and 
then go after your milk and butter. The 
dark will catch you if you don’t hurry.” 

“I’m going, too,” announced Edna. 
“I can carry the butter, but I won’t bring 
the key.” The two little girls laughed, 
for this was a standing joke between them. 

They started out through the rustling 
leaves to the spring-house ; the leaves gave 
forth a queer, though pleasant odor, as 
they pushed their feet through them. A 
big star blazed out against the pale rose 
of an evening sky. Over in the corn- 
fields, crows were calling, and a few 
crickets, not yet driven to cover by the 
frost, chirped in the grass. The cows 
were standing in the stable yard. They 


226 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


had been milked, and Ira had brought the 
pails to the spring-house before this. The 
little white kitten which Edna had made 
a great pet of, followed her down the walk, 
frisking away after a falling leaf, or dan- 
cing sideways in pretended fear of its 
own tail. Edna picked it up but it had 
no desire to stay when this, of all hours 
in the day, was the best to play in, so it 
scrambled down from her arms and was 
off like a flash, darting half way up a tree, 
with ears back and claws outspread. 

“I do hate to leave the kitten,” said 
Edna. “I hope it won’t miss me too 
much. You will try to give it a little at- 
tention, even though you love the grey one 
best, won’t you, Eeliance'?” 

Eeliance promised, and leaving the kit- 
ten to its own wild antics they went into 
the spring-house, issuing forth with the 
various things they had gone for. “Just 
think,” sighed Eeliance, “this is the very 



This is the Very Last Time You Will Help Me” 





FAREWELLS 


227 


last time you will help me bring up the 
things. I shall miss you awfully, Edna. 
You have been so good to me.” 

“Why, no, I haven’t,” answered she; 
“you have been good to me. I’m coming 
back at Easter, Eeliance, and it will be so 
nice, for I shall have so many questions to 
ask about the girls and the club and all 
that.” 

“Are you really coming at Easter? I 
didn’t know that.” 

“Yes, mother just now promised grand- 
ma I should.” 

‘ ‘ Goody ! Goody ! I must tell the girls 
when I see them.” 

The girls, however, found out before 
Reliance saw them, for knowing that 
Edna was to leave in the morning, they 
gave her a surprise that very evening. 
Supper was hardly over before Reliance, 
trying very hard to smother laughter, had 
a whispered consultation with Mrs. Willis. 


228 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


who, after it was over, came back to her 
place by the fire. In a few minutes she 
said, ‘‘Edna, dear, I wish you would go up 
to my room and see if you can find my 
other pair of glasses. Look on the bureau 
and the table in my room, and, if you don ’t 
find them there, look in the other rooms.” 

Very obediently Edna trotted off up- 
stairs, searched high and low, looked in 
this room and that, but no glasses were to 
be found. After much hunting, she came 
down without them. She stepped slowly 
down the stair, humming softly to herself. 
It was very quiet in the living-room, or 
did she hear whispers, and subdued tit- 
ters? Was Reliance or maybe Ben going 
to play a trick on her ? She heard a sud- 
den “Hush! Hush!” as she reached the 
door of the living-room, but she made up 
her mind that she would appear perfectly 
unconcerned, and entered the room in a 
very don’t-care sort of manner. “I 


FAREWELLS 


229 


couldn’t find — ” she began and then 
stopped short, for there, ranged around 
the room, were twelve little girls all smil- 
ing to see the look of surprise on her face. 
So that w'as what the trick was. 

“We’re a surprise party,” spoke up 
Esther Ann. 

“And we’re a good-by party, too,” 
added Eeba. 

“We’ve all brought you something,” 
Alcinda spoke. 

“We are going to stay an hour,” Letty 
added. 

Here Esther Ann darted forward with 
a bag of nuts which she plumped down in 
Edna’s lap. “There,” she said, “you 
must take those along with you.” 

Next, Reba presented a neat little book. 
It looked very religious, Edna thought, 
but the cover was pretty and there was an 
attractive picture in it. 

Alcinda came next with a very ornate 


230 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


vase wliicli Edna remembered seeing on 
the glass case in Mr. Hewlett’s store. 

Letty brought the figure of a cunning 
cat playing with a ball; this Edna liked 
very much. Some brought candy, some 
brought cakes, one brought a paper doll, 
another a little cup and saucer, but each 
one had something to contribute till Edna 
exclaimed : “Why, it is just like a birth- 
day, and these are lovely presents.” 

“Oh, they’re nothing but some little 
souvenirs,” remarked Esther Ann loftily. 
“We wanted you to have them to remem- 
ber us by.” 

“I shall never forget you, never,” said 
Edna earnestly, “and I thank you ever 
and ever so much.” She gathered up her 
booty and piled it on the table, then some 
one proposed a game, and they amused 
themselves till grandma sent out for nuts, 
cider, apples and cakes, which feast ended 
the entertainment, though it is safe to say 


FAREWELLS 


231 


it lasted more than an hour. At the last, 
the girls all crowded around Edna to kiss 
her good-night and to make their fare- 
wells, and then, like a flock of birds, they 
all took flight, scurrying home by the light 
of their lanterns, some across the street, 
some down, some up. 

As the sound of the last merry voice 
died away, Edna threw herself into her 
grandmother’s arms. “Oh, grandma,” 
she cried, “wasn’t it a lovely surprise? 
Did you know about it?” 

“Not so very long before. Eeliance 
came and told me what the girls wanted to 
do, and I promised to help in any way that 
I could.” 

“And was that why you sent me up for 
the glasses? I didn’t tell you after all 
that I couldn’t find them.” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” said her 
grandmother, laughing. “I only told you 
to go see if you could find them so as to 


232 A DEAR EITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


get you out of the way and keep you oc- 
cupied long enough to allow the girls to 
come in.” 

“I didn’t hear the front door shut.” 

“No, for they came around by way of 
the side door, and tip-toed in by way of 
the dining-room.” 

“Well, it was lovely,” sighed Edna in 
full content. 

Although the real farewells had been 
said on that evening, that was not quite the 
last of it, for the girls were gathered in a 
body by the church the next morning when 
Edna drove by on her way to the train. 
She was squeezed in the back seat of the 
carriage between her mother and her 
Aunt Alice. Ben was on the front seat 
with his grandfather. Reliance at the 
gate was waving a tearful farewell, a 
white kitten under one arm and a grey 
one under the other. Grandma herself 
stood in the doorway. “Good-by! Good- 


FAREWELLS 


233 


by!” sounded fainter and fainter from 
Eeliance, but the word was taken up by 
the girls who shouted a perfect chorus of 
good-bys as the black horses trotted nim- 
bly along and bore Edna out of sight. 


CHAPTER XII 

HOW ARE YOU? 

In what seemed an incredibly short time, 
Edna was getting out at the station near- 
est her own home. Ben and his mother 
had parted from them an hour before and 
were now on their way to their own home. 
Ben, however, would return on Monday 
to take up his college work again. 

“There they are!” were the first words 
Edna heard as she and her mother de- 
scended from the train. And then the 
boys rushed forward to hug and kiss both 
herself and her mother and to make as 
much fuss over them as if they had been 
gone a year. 

“Gee! but I’m glad to see you,” cried 
Charlie. “It hasn’t seemed like home at 
all without you, mother.” 


HOW ABE YOU? 


235 


“Didn’t you have a good time at Mrs. 
Porter’s?” asked Edna. 

“Had a high old time,” responded 
Frank. “Here, let me take some of those 
things. You look like country travellers 
with all those bundles. What you got 
there?” 

“Oh, things,” returned Edna vaguely. 
“All sorts of things the girls gave me to 
bring home.” 

“You look like a regular old emigrant 
with so many boxes and bags.” 

“We couldn ’t get them all in the trunk, ’ ’ 
Edna explained, “and so we had to bring 
them this way. When did you get back, 
Frank?” 

“Last night. We came home with 
father.” 

“Then you haven’t had such a very 
long time in wdiich to miss us,” said Mrs. 
Conway, with a smile. 

“Well, it seemed like a long time,” re- 


236 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


turned Frank. “Nothing ever does go 
right when you’re away, mother.” 

“What special thing has gone wrong 
this time I” asked his mother. 

“Oh, I couldn’t find anything I wanted 
this morning, and nobody knew where 
anything was, and Celia didn’t know how 
to fix anything, and all that.” 

Mrs. Conway laughed. “That shows 
how I spoil you all. I am afraid I missed 
my boys, too, and am glad to get back to 
them.” 

“Where’s Celia?” asked Edna. 

“ She’s home. We all came up together 
last night. Lizzie had waffles for supper, 
and Frank ate ten pieces,” spoke up 
Charlie. 

“Well, that was all I could get,” said 
Frank, in an injured way. “Lizzie said 
there were no more.” 

“Oh, Frank, Frank,” laughed his 
mother. “Well, at any rate, I am glad to 


HOW ARE YOU? 


237 


know my absence has not affected your ap- 
petite.” 

“Tell us what you did at the Porter’s,” 
said Edna. 

“Oh, we just racketed around. We 
went to a fierce old football game, and we 
did all sorts of stunts in the house. Steve 
and Roger have a fine little work-shop. I 
don’t believe I like living right in the city, 
though. We boys have a heap more fun 
at a place like this where we can get out- 
of-doors. Roger and Steve say so, too.” 

“I am glad you are so well content,” 
observed Mrs. Conway. 

“There’s Celia,” Edna sang out, seeing 
some one on the porch watching for them. 
It was a chill, wintry morning, and they 
were all glad to hurry indoors to the warm 
fire. The house looked cozy and cheer- 
ful, yellow chrysanthemums in tall vases 
graced the hall and library ; in the latter, 
an open grate fire glowed, and Edna looked 


238 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


around complacently. “It is kind of nice 
to get home, ’ ’ she remarked. ‘ ‘ I love it at 
grandma’s, but I reckon we all like our 
own home better than other people’s. 
How are you, Celia ? Tell me everything 
that has been going on at school. How is 
Dorothy? Did you have a club-meeting 
and was it a nice one % Oh, I must tell you 
about the Elderflowers, mustn’t I, mother ? 
Has Agnes gone back to college? Have 
you seen Miss Eloise?” 

“Dear me,” cried Celia, “what a lot of 
questions. I wonder if I can answer them 
all. Let me see. I’ll have to go back- 
wards, I think. I haven’t seen Miss 
Eloise, but some of the girls have. She 
and her sister dined at the Ramseys on 
Thanksgiving Day.” 

“I know they had a good dinner, then,” 
remarked Edna, “for I was there myself 
last Thanksgiving.” 

“Agnes has gone back to college. 


HOW AEB YOU? 


239 


Dorothy is well. We had a nice club- 
meeting, and I missed my little sister’s 
dear, round, little face. Dorothy has 
been so impatient that she can hardly wait 
to see you. She has been calling me up 
at intervals all morning to know if you 
had come yet. There is the telephone 
now. No doubt it is Dorothy calling.” 

Edna flew to the ’phone and Celia heard. 
“Yes, this is Edna. Oh, hello, Dorothy. 
I’m well, how are you? I don’t know; 
I’ll see. Oh, no, you come over here ; that 
will be much nicer. I have some things 
to show you. What’s that? Yes, indeed, 
I am glad to get back.” Then a little tin- 
kle of laughter. “You are a goosey 
goose; I’m not going to tell you. Come 
over. Yes, right away if you want to, 
Dorothy.” 

She went back to her sister, and estab- 
lished herself in her lap, putting one arm 
around her neck and stretching out her 


240 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


feet to the warmth of the fire. “It was 
Dorothy,” she said. 

“That was quite evident, my dear,” re- 
turned Celia. ‘ ‘ What was it you wouldn ’t 
tell her?” 

“Oh, Dorothy is such a goose. She was 
afraid I had gotten to like some of the 
Overlea girls better than I do her. Just 
because I wrote to her about Reliance and 
Alcinda and all of them. Just as if I 
couldn’t like more than one girl. Don’t 
you think it is silly, sister, for anyone to 
want you to have no other friend, I mean 
no other best friend? Of course I love 
Dorothy dearly, hut I love Jennie, too, 
and I am very fond of Netty Black, and, 
oh, lots of girls. Are you that way about 
Agnes, Celia?” 

Celia felt a pang of self-reproach, for it 
must be admitted that she had felt a little 
jealous of the new friends Agnes was mak- 
ing at college. “I don’t suppose I should 


HOW ARB YOU? 


241 


be,” she answered after a pause. ‘‘I sup- 
pose it is very selfish and imfair to feel 
that way about it. Mother says it is very 
conceited of a person to think she can sat- 
isfy every need of a friend, and that it 
shows only love of self, and not love of 
your friend, when you want to exclude 
others from her friendship, and I am sure 
I don’t want to be either selfish or con- 
ceited, and I should hate to be called a 
jealous person.” 

“Do you think Dorothy is conceited and 
selfish?” 

“I don’t think she means to be, but 
when she wants to deprive you of good 
times with other girls, or is jealous of your 
friendship for them, she is encouraging 
conceit and selfishness. I’m glad you 
asked me about the way I feel toward 
Agnes, for it makes me see that I am by 
no means the true friend I ought to be. 
If I loved her as I should, I’d want her to ^ 


242 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


have all the good times, all the love, all the 
benefit she could get from others, and I 
mean to fight against any other feeling but 
the right one. I don’t believe my little 
sister will be the jealous kind,” she said 
hugging Edna up. 

“If you see me getting that way, I hope 
you won’t let me,” returned Edna ear- 
nestly. 

“There’s Dorothy now,” said Celia, 
putting down the plump little figure from 
her lap. And Edna ran out to greet her 
friend. 

There was so much to talk about, so 
many things to show, that Dorothy must 
needs stay to lunch. A little later, over 
came Margaret McDonald to say “How 
do you do” and to bring some flowers from 
her mother’s greenhouse. Edna’s tongue 
ran so fast and she had so much to tell that 
the afternoon seemed all too short. Dor- 
othy and Margaret, too, had their own 


HOW ABE YOU? 


243 


affairs to talk about, and it was dark be- 
fore the two little visitors were ready to 
go. 

The next excitement was the coming of 
her father, for whom Dorothy watched 
and who appeared almost gladder than 
anyone that his wife and little girl were 
at home again. ‘ ‘ This is something like, ’ ’ 
he said as he came in, his face wreathed in 
smiles. 

^‘You poor dear,” said Edna, in a moth- 
erly way, “it has been a lonely time for 
you, hasn’t it?” 

“Pretty lonely, but then it teaches me 
how to appreciate my family when they 
get back. My, my, my, what a difference 
it does make, to be sure. I don’t think 
I can stand you all skylarking off again 
very soon.” 

It was all very cozy and natural after 
dinner to be back again in the library, 
Mrs. Conway on one side the table with 


244 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


her fancy work, Mr. Conway on the other 
with the evening paper, the boys reading, 
or scrapping in the hall, Celia in the next 
room at the piano, and Edna herself with 
the Children’s Page of the paper spread 
out before her where she lay at full length 
on the big rug before the fire. Somehow 
the page of stories and puzzles did not ab- 
sorb her as much as usual. She wondered 
what Keliance was doing, if her grand- 
mother felt lonely without her little grand- 
daughter, and if the white kitten missed 
her. She saw the long street bordered by 
maples, the store and the postoffice, the 
white church. Presently she got up and 
went over to her mother. “Wouldn’t it 
be nice,” she said, “if one could be in two 
places at the same time?” 

Her mother nodded. “I shouldn’t 
wonder if you and I were in two places at 
the same time, or that we had been during 
the last few minutes, for I am sure while 


HOW ARE YOU? 


245 


our bodies are here our thoughts have been 
in Overlea.” 

“That is just where my thoughts have 
been, ’ ’ answered Edna. “Do you suppose 
they miss us, mother?” 

“I am afraid they do, very much,” said 
her mother, with a soft, little sigh. “I 
know if either of my daughters ever goes 
away to a home of her own, I shall miss 
her very much when she has left me after 
making a visit.” 

Edna stood with her arm still around 
her mother’s neck. This was rather a 
new thought. Once her mother had been 
a little girl like her, of course, and had 
stood by her mother’s side just like this, 
and now she was living in quite a different 
home. Edna tried to imagine how it 
would seem to come back to this, her child- 
hood’s home, from one of her very own, 
but it was entirely too difficult a matter 
so she gave it up and went back to her 


246 A DEAR LITTLE GIRL’S HOLIDAYS 


paper. But in a few minutes, the pictures 
on the page before her became pictures of 
Overlea. She was taking the spring- 
house key to old Nathan Keener that he 
might unlock his door and let out the 
white kitten. Then she was half con- 
scious of hearing a voice say : “No, never 
mind; she is all tired out; I’ll carry her 
up.” Then she was helped to her feet, a 
pair of strong arms lifted her up, and she 
was borne up the stairs. She hardly 
knew who undressed her and stowed her 
away in bed. She felt a soft kiss on her 
cheek and then she sank into a deep slum- 
ber. The dear little girl’s Thanksgiving 
holidays were over. 



AUG 2 i912 




